diff options
Diffstat (limited to '21998.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 21998.txt | 9262 |
1 files changed, 9262 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/21998.txt b/21998.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..47df033 --- /dev/null +++ b/21998.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9262 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Lion's Mouse, by C. N. Williamson and A. +M. Williamson, Illustrated by Harry Stacey Benton + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Lion's Mouse + + +Author: C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson + + + +Release Date: July 4, 2007 [eBook #21998] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION'S MOUSE*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 21998-h.htm or 21998-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/9/21998/21998-h/21998-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/9/21998/21998-h.zip) + + + + + +THE LION'S MOUSE + +by + +C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON + +Frontispiece By Harry Stacey Benton + + + + + + + +Garden City New York +Doubleday, Page & Company +1919 + +Copyright, 1919, by +C. N. & A. M. Williamson +All Rights Reserved, Including That of Translation into Foreign +Languages, Including the Scandinavian + + + + +[Illustration: _Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw a +young and beautiful woman hovering at the door._ + +_'Oh, do help me!' she said._] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. THE LION + + II. THE NET + + III. THE MOUSE + + IV. THE MURMUR OF THE STORM + + V. ON THE WAY TO THE CAR + + VI. THE PARCEL WITH THE GOLD SEALS + + VII. THE QUEEN'S PEARLS + + VIII. BEVERLEY TALKS + + IX. THE BLUFF THAT FAILED + + X. THE BLUFF THAT WON + + XI. O'REILLY'S WAISTCOAT POCKET + + XII. THE HORIZONTAL PANEL + + XIII. "THERE CAN BE NO BARGAIN" + + XIV. THE STONE COPING + + XV. THE NUMBER SEVENTEEN + + XVI. A QUOTATION FROM SHAKESPEARE + + XVII. THE MYSTERY OF THE BOUDOIR + + XVIII. DEFEAT + + XIX. THE BROWN TRUNK + + XX. MURDER + + XXI. "KIT!" + + XXII. THE VOICE THAT DID NOT SEEM STRANGE + + XXIII. "WHAT'S DONE CAN'T BE UNDONE" + + XXIV. ROGER'S APPOINTMENT AT THE CLUB + + XXV. KRANTZ'S KELLER + + XXVI. THE GIRL IN PINK + + XXVII. WHEN BEVERLEY CAME HOME + + XXVIII. MR. JONES OF PEORIA + + XXIX. ACCORDING TO THE MORNING PAPERS + + XXX. WHAT CLO DID WITH A KNIFE + + XXXI. THE NINE DAYS + + XXXII. "STEPHEN'S DEAD!" + + XXXIII. THE PATCH ON THE PILLOW + + XXXIV. TRAPPED + + XXXV. THE TIME LIMIT OF HOPE + + XXXVI. "WE DO THINGS QUICKLY OVER HERE" + + XXXVII. THE TELEGRAM + + XXXVIII. WHO IS STEPHEN? + + XXXIX. ON THE ROAD TO NEWPORT + + + + +THE LION'S MOUSE + + + + +I + +THE LION + + +Roger Sands had steel-gray eyes, a straight black line of brows drawn +low and nearly meeting above them, thick black hair lightly powdered +with silver at the temples, and a clean-shaven, aggressive chin. He had +the air of being hard as nails. Most people, including women, thought +him hard as nails. He thought it of himself, and gloried in his armour, +never more than on a certain September day, when resting in the Santa Fe +Limited, tearing back to New York after a giant's tussle in California. +But--it was hot weather, and he had left the stateroom door open. +Everything that followed came--from this. + +Suddenly he became conscious of a perfume, and saw a woman hovering, +rather than standing, at the door. At his look she started away, then +stopped. + +"Oh, do help me!" she said. + +She was young and very beautiful. He couldn't stare quite as coldly as +he ought. + +"What can I do for you?" was the question he asked. + +He had hardly opened his mouth before she flashed into the stateroom and +shut the door. + +"There's a man.... I'm afraid!" + +Though she was young and girlish, and spoke impulsively, there was +something oddly regal about her. Princesses and girl-queens ought to be +of her type; tall and very slim, with gracious, sloping shoulders and a +long throat, the chin slightly lifted: pale, with great appealing violet +eyes under haughty brows, and quantities of yellow-brown hair dressed in +some sort of Madonna style. + +"You needn't be afraid," he said. "Men aren't allowed to insult ladies +in trains." + +"This man hasn't insulted me in an ordinary way. But I'm in dreadful +danger. American men are good to women, even strangers. You can save my +life, if you will--or more than my life. But there's only one way." Her +words came fast, on panting breaths, as though she had been running. The +girl had stood at first, her hand on the door-knob, but losing her +balance with a jerk of the train, she let herself fall into the seat. +There she sat with her head thrown wearily back, her eyes appealing to +the eyes that looked down at her. + +A queer fancy ran through the man's brain. He imagined that a woman +being tried for her life might look at the judge with just that +expression. "What do you mean?" asked Sands. + +He had resisted the jerk of the train, and was still on his feet. +Instead of answering his question, the girl begged him to sit down. + +"I can't think properly while it seems as if you were waiting to turn me +out," she said. + +Sands sat down. + +"I hardly know how to tell you what I mean. I hardly dare," the voice +went on, while he wondered. "It's a tremendous thing to ask. I can't +explain ... and if I hesitate it will be too late. I don't know your +name, or your character, except what I judge from your face. The way to +save me is to keep me in this stateroom with the door shut, as far as +Chicago." + +"Good heavens! That's...." Sands was going to end his sentence with +"absolutely impossible!" But he stopped in the midst. Her eyes made him +stop. It was as if he were pronouncing a death sentence. He was silent +for a few seconds. + +"I'd have to say ... no, I could not say you were my wife, because +everyone knows I've not got a wife. I'll say you are my cousin: say +you've come late. I want you to have this stateroom, and I'll take +another ... or a section. I--I could do that." + +"Will you?" she breathed. + +"Yes. I will." + +He said this almost sullenly. He was thinking: "Pretty smart new dodge! +Neat way to get a stateroom all the way from Albuquerque to Chicago." + +"I'll go out now and fix things up with the conductor," he promised. "We +must settle on a story. You came on board at Albuquerque just now?" + +"Yes. The last minute before the train started. I have a berth in this +car. I thought I was safe, that everything was right for me. Then I saw +the man ... not the one I expected; worse. He wasn't in this car, but +the next. I saw him standing there. He was looking at some ladies +passing through. One had on deep mourning, and a crepe veil. Perhaps he +believed it was I. I turned and rushed this way. Your door was open, and +you ... you looked like a real man. That's all." + +"What about your baggage?" + +"I have nothing. I ... was in a hurry." + +"In what name did you make your reservation?" + +"Miss Beverley White. White isn't my real name: Beverley is ... one of +my names. I can't tell you more." + +"All right. The porter will get some toilet things for my cousin whom +I'm to chaperon from Albuquerque to Chicago, and who nearly missed the +train owing to illness. He'll bring your meals in, as you're not able to +leave your stateroom." + +"That's what I'd have asked," she said. "I may trust the porter?" + +"The porter knows me. Your idea is," he went on, his hand on the door, +"that the man you don't want to see will try pretty hard to see you?" + +"Yes. When he searches the train and can't find me (I'm sure he's begun +the search already) he can't be certain I'm on board, but he won't give +up easily. If the deepest gratitude----" + +"I don't need consolation. Any other instructions to give before I leave +you?" + +"No. Yes ... there's one thing. Will you take charge of a very small +parcel? I daren't keep it myself, in case anything unexpected should +happen. + +"It is inside my dress," the girl explained. For an instant she turned +her back, then, rebuttoning her blouse with one hand, held out to him in +the other a long, thick envelope, unaddressed, and sealed with three +gold-coloured seals. Roger took the parcel. + +"You see how I trust you," she said. "This packet is the most valuable +thing I have in the world, yet I feel it is safe." + +"You told me you didn't know my name. But if I'm your cousin you'd +better know it. I'm Roger Sands----" + +"Roger Sands, the great--what is the word?--corporation lawyer? The man +who saved the California Oil Trust king?" She looked surprised, almost +frightened. + +"It isn't a 'Trust,' or I couldn't have saved him. That was just the +point." + +"How lucky I am to have such a man stand by me! For you will?" + +He slipped the long envelope into an inside breast pocket of his gray +tweed coat. "It's as safe there as in a bank," he assured her. "Now I'll +go and make everything straight. If you want me, you've only to ring for +the porter and send me word. I won't come till you do send." + +Whether or no her terror was justified, Roger resolved to give it the +benefit of the doubt. Instead of trying to secure another stateroom, he +would try to get a section close to Stateroom A, in order to play +watch-dog. + +It wasn't difficult to do. The section he wanted was engaged from the +next stopping place, but an exchange could be made. The Pullman car +conductor took it upon himself to attend to that. Sands' suitcase, coat, +and magazines were arranged on both seats, and he sat down to keep +guard. The porter had been told that Miss White wasn't to be disturbed +unless she rang, except at meal times, when he--Sands--would choose +dishes from the menu and send a waiter from the dining-car. + +A few toilet things were somehow procured by the negro, and handed into +Stateroom A, with a contribution of novels, magazines, and a box of +chocolates, from Miss White's cousin. + +Night, Roger realized, would be the dangerous time, if danger there was, +and he decided not to sleep. Lying awake wasn't, after all, very +difficult, for the portrait of the girl was painted on Roger's mind. He +saw things in that portrait he'd seen but subconsciously in the +original. He thought that her beauty was of the type which would shine +like the moon, set off with wonderful clothes and jewels. And from that +thought it was only a step to picture the joy of giving such clothes and +jewels. The man was surprised and ashamed to find himself thrilling like +a boy. + +Daylight released him from duty. He dressed, and had his section made +up. Though all peril--if any--had vanished with the night, Roger +couldn't bring himself to leave his post for breakfast until he saw the +porter tap at the door of Stateroom A in answer to a ring. + +"I hope Miss White's feeling better," he said to the negro, when the +door shut once more. + +"Yes, sah, she wants her room fixed up. Ah'm gwan do it raight now, but +Ah'm bound to give yuh the lady's message fust. She thought you'd like +to heah she's mighty well, considerin'. An' she'll thank yuh, suh, to +order her some coffee an' toast." + +Roger added cantaloupe to the order, and a cereal with cream. The +mysterious girl hidden in his stateroom was no longer an adventuress, +sponging on his idiotic generosity: she was an exquisite, almost a +sacred, charge. As he ate his breakfast in the dining-car he saw a man +he knew sitting directly opposite him at the next table. Their eyes +encountered. Roger felt that the other had been staring at him and +hadn't had time to look away. He bowed, and paused at the table which he +was obliged to pass on his way out. + +"How do you do, O'Reilly?" he said, with a slight stiffness. He would +have preferred to walk past with no more than the nod, but in that case +the man would believe his late absent-mindedness had been deliberate. +Roger didn't wish to leave this impression. Justin O'Reilly was nearly +ten years younger than he, but had got the better of him once, and not +long ago. Sands was too proud to let it seem as if the memory rankled. + +O'Reilly rose and shook the offered hand. He was tall and lean, and +brown-faced as a soldier back from the war. He had a boyish air, younger +than his thirty-one or thirty-two years: but under that look was the +same sort of hardness and keenness which was the first thing a stranger +noticed about Sands. + +"I'd no idea you were out west." + +"It's been a flying trip," O'Reilly answered. + +"Queer I missed seeing you before. Suppose you've been on board since +Los Angeles?" + +"I caught sight of you last night for the first time," said the other. +"I'm not in your car, and I've been resting up. I came on board tired. +One usually does come on board tired!" + +"Yes," said Roger. "Well, we shall knock up against each other now and +then, here in the diner." + +"Sure to. I shall be spending a few days in New York before Washington," +O'Reilly volunteered. + +"Right! But don't let your coffee get cold for me." Roger passed on. + +If his thoughts had not been focussed on the occupant of Stateroom A he +would have wondered a good deal as to what had taken Justin O'Reilly on +a "flying trip" west. This was O'Reilly's first year in Congress, and +he'd manoeuvred to make himself a conspicuous figure in Washington one +way or other. His own present interests could not, Roger thought, be +interfered with by Justin O'Reilly. The man was a Democrat, and opposed +on principle to the cause of John Heron, whom Miss White had called the +"California Oil Trust King": but personally the two were friends, even +distantly related, and O'Reilly would wish to do Heron no secret injury. + +When he got back to his own car Sands found the porter waiting. + +"Lady's through breakfus, suh, and would like to see yuh w'en +convenient," was the message: and two seconds later Stateroom A's +rightful owner was humbly knocking at the door. + +The girl's beauty struck the man anew as she smiled him a welcome. She +was as well groomed as if she had had a lady's maid. + +"Has anything happened? Have you had any trouble on my account?" she +inquired. + +When Roger said no, nothing had happened, she drew a breath of relief. + +"No one in any way noticeable has tried to get acquainted with you?" + +"The conductor and porter and a waiter or two are the only persons I've +exchanged a word with--except a fellow I know slightly, named O'Reilly, +a Congressman from California. I suppose he doesn't interest you?" + +"No man interests me ... unless the one who is saving my life," the girl +answered surprisingly. As she spoke, a wave of rose-colour poured over +her face, and she turned quickly away in confusion. Roger felt that she +had blurted it out, scarcely knowing what she said until too late. +Instead of liking her less, he liked her better. He brought forth the +envelope to show. It had been under his pillow all night, he told her. + +"I don't know what I should have done without you!" she said, with a +gratitude that was almost humble. There'd be a certain blankness, Roger +couldn't help seeing, when the time came to do without _her_! + +"When we get to Chicago," he asked, "how can I help you there?" + +"Oh, I expect to be met by a friend. I suppose I shan't see you again: +but I shall never forget." + +Roger Sands felt a horrid twinge of some unpleasant emotion. He loathed +the "friend" who would take the girl away from him. + +"But Chicago's a long way off," she said when he did not speak. "It must +seem a wild story to you, but the danger I'm in ... the danger that this +envelope is in ... won't be over for one minute till you've put me into +my friend's hands. You will do that, won't you? You'll see me through +till the last?" + +"I will," said Roger. + +"And meanwhile you'll come and call on me in the stateroom sometimes if +you don't mind?" + +Roger smiled. A silver lining began to glimmer through the cloud. + +By good luck he knew no one on board save O'Reilly, who fortunately was +in another car, and he hoped that few people knew him. He could not +resist her invitation. He began by deciding to spend a half hour with +his "invalid cousin" now and again. As through the veil of beauty he +caught glimpses of something like character within, Roger felt that the +mystery thickened. + +The inevitable moment came. The porter was brushing men's hats and +coats. Suitcases were being fastened up. The Limited was slowing down in +the big station. Then, and not till then, did Miss White show herself at +the door of Stateroom A. Sands, who had knocked to tell her that she had +better come out, was waiting to guard her for the last time. Neither had +much to say. The hope of haven had not raised the girl's spirits. As +Sands gave her a hand, stepping on to the platform, he saw Justin +O'Reilly, already out of the train and looking about with the air of +expecting someone. O'Reilly took off his hat, with an unnecessarily +cordial smile for Sands. At heart they were enemies. Roger took the +smile to mean amusement at sight of his companion. He felt annoyed. Miss +White was looking straight ahead, a brilliant colour staining the cheeks +usually pale. + +The rendezvous, she had explained to him, was at a news stand. "There!" +she said, "that is where he will be. There's such a crowd, I can't see +him yet." + +They neared the news stand, and as "Miss White" was a tall girl whose +head could be seen above the hats of average women, he expected a man to +start eagerly forward. But no man separated himself from the crowd. She +was beginning to look anxious: there was no flush on her cheeks now. + +"Where can he be?" she said. "Something must have happened." + +"Taxi broken down, perhaps," Roger tried consolation. + +"Oh, if only it's nothing worse! I must just wait. But you, Mr. Sands, I +oughtn't to ask...." + +"You needn't," Roger cut her short. "I'm not going to desert you." + +"I might have known you wouldn't. He can't be long!" + +"What about the envelope? Will you have it now?" Roger asked. She had +begged him to keep it until they were out of the train. + +"Not yet. I daren't. You're sure it hasn't been stolen from you? Do +please make certain!" + +He put his hand inside his coat, and felt the envelope, which was safe, +of course. "It's there, as large as life." + +"Thank heaven!" she breathed. + +Minutes passed: fifteen minutes; twenty; thirty. The girl was white as +ashes, and dark shadows lay under her eyes. "All hope is over!" she +said, as Sands glanced at his watch, when they had stood for +three-quarters of an hour. "Some terrible thing has prevented him from +meeting me. I don't know what's going to become of me now!" + + + + +II + +THE NET + + +"You made no plan what to do if your friend didn't turn up?" Roger +enquired. "Have you any other friends in Chicago?" + +"Not one." + +"Have you ever lived here, or stayed here?" + +"No." + +If he had now been capable of suspecting her, all his first suspicions +of Miss Beverley White would have marshalled themselves in his brain. +Nothing had happened during the whole journey to justify her fantastic +story of mysterious danger. As for the wonderful envelope, who could +tell that it didn't contain blank paper? But Sands had got beyond this +stage. If he were a fool, he asked to be nothing better. + +"Is that friend you talk of more than a friend?" + +"No, only a person I trusted for reasons I can't tell you." + +"I see. And you don't know what will become of you since he's failed +you, and you're turned adrift in a strange town?" + +"I don't know at all. I feel stunned--as if it didn't matter." + +"It does matter to a girl like you, left alone without friends in a big +city where you're a stranger. Have you money?" + +"I had enough and more than enough for my journey here, enough to pay +you back for all you've done. I expected to get more money, and to be +looked after in Chicago. Perhaps I can find work." + +"Do you think after all that's passed I can go coolly on my way leaving +you alone in Chicago? I may be a fool, but I have another proposal to +make." He paused. + +She looked up as if startled. + +"What do you say to marrying me and going on to New York as my wife?" + +For a minute he thought she was going to faint. She seemed suddenly to +become limp. She swayed a little on her feet, and he caught her arm. + +"You're tired out, standing so long," he exclaimed. + +"No, it's not that. Forgive me. It was almost too much, finding out the +height of your goodness. Yet, 'height' is the word!" + +"You'll marry me, then!" he cried. + +"No," the girl answered, "I thank you with my whole heart, but I can't." + +"Why ... why?" he stammered. "Unless you're married already." + +"I'm not married. No man has ever been anything to me. I swear that to +you! But I can't tell you any more about myself." + +Roger did not speak for a minute. At last he said: + +"See here, you and I have got to talk. We can't do that where we are, +with people jostling us this way and that. There's one thing certain. +However this ends, I'm not going to leave you alone in Chicago. We've +got plenty of time. Will you let me take you to a quiet restaurant? We +can thrash matters out across the table." + +"Very well," she agreed. + +Roger knew Chicago. When he had arranged to have his luggage put in safe +keeping, he got a taxi and took the girl to a dull but good place, sure +to be practically empty at that hour. They sat down at a table in a +corner, and Sands ordered an oyster stew. + +"Do you dislike me?" he began his catechism. "Could you like me enough +to think of me as a husband, if we'd met in a conventional, society sort +of way?" + +"Yes, I could. I do want you to know that. You've been so splendid to +me." + +"So far so good, but I haven't been splendid. I've fallen in love with +you. I haven't been in love before ... that is, not since I was twenty. +I've never had time...." + +"You haven't taken much time in doing it now!" She gave a queer little +laugh with a sob in it. + +"I've learned the lesson that time isn't the thing needed. I want you +more than I ever wanted anything in my life, and I'll take you ... as +you stand." + +"You haven't stopped to think ... to count the cost," she said. "Imagine +what it would be for a man like you to have a wife he knew nothing +about, just a single figure cut off its background, in a picture he'd +never seen. People would ask: 'Who was she?' and there'd be no answer." + +"They'd not ask me that," said Roger obstinately. "And I wouldn't care +what they asked each other. I'm not a society man, though I might enjoy +putting my wife on the top floor. And I can do that with you if I +choose! You say I'm a man of importance. I'm important enough anyhow to +take the wife I want, and to put her where I want her to be." + +"Yes, perhaps. But it wouldn't be only for a little while that I'd not +be allowed to tell you about myself. It would be for always. You +couldn't love me enough to be happy in spite of that." + +"I could be happy," Roger insisted, "if you'd love me." + +"I'd adore you! But...." + +"Then there isn't any 'but'. I don't say I shouldn't like to know all +about my wife and her people and her past. Still, I'd rather have you +with a future and no past than any other woman with both. I can't do +without you, and I'm going to have you ... now, to-day, as soon as I can +buy a license and get a parson to make us man and wife." + +"But if you should regret it?" + +"I never will be sorry, if you'll do what you just said, adore +me ... half as much as I'll adore you." + +Her eyes gave him a beautiful answer. Roger Sands felt that nothing +could make him regret the coming of such a romance into his hustling +life. + +This, then, was the story behind the sensation when Roger Sands came +back from a short trip to California bringing a wife, a girl who had +been a Miss Beverley White, a girl nobody had ever seen or heard of +before. + + + + +III + +THE MOUSE + + +On the same September day, in Moreton and Payntor's department store in +New York, might have been seen a wisp of a girl "cheeking" a manager +into giving her a situation on the strength of her being Irish. + +By chance, the side door of the big Sixth Avenue shop opened for Clo +Riley (her true, Irish, baptismal name was Clodagh, but she didn't think +that would "go" in New York), on the day when Roger Sands' stateroom +door, on the Santa Fe Limited, opened for a very different girl and for +Romance. No one would have thought that they could be in the same +story--the mysterious Vision and the little, sharp-faced thing from +County Cork. Yet without Clo Riley it would have been another story +altogether, even though, for more than six months, she and Mr. and Mrs. +Roger Sands never heard each other's names, nor saw each other's faces. + +It was in the April after her marriage that Mrs. Sands came upon an +advertisement in a newspaper. Moreton and Payntor were making a splash +about their lately started department for antique furniture. They had +obtained "eight magnificent, unique pieces of satinwood furniture +painted by Angelica Kaufmann, bought by a representative of Moreton and +Payntor, from a titled family in England." + +Beverley Sands (her husband called her "Bev") loved painted satinwood, +when it was good. How she knew that things were good or bad, Roger +sometimes wondered: but she did know. Roger had taken a house at Newport +which had come into the market, and Beverley was picking up "beautiful +pieces" with which to furnish it. The house would, they hoped, be ready +to move into by June. + +When she read Moreton and Payntor's advertisement, Beverley decided to +see the satinwood suite and buy it if genuine. Her present wealth +emphasized her astonishing, incredible happiness. "He gives me +everything I want, he trusts me to do everything I like," she thought. +Life was wonderful. Slowly she was coming out from under the cloud of +fear, and had ceased to be afraid of Something terrible that might +happen. + +Roger went every morning to the offices of the firm which had his name +at its head. She had breakfasted with him in a kind of super-dressing +gown which Roger said was like an opal seen through a sunrise mist. As +her maid hooked up her frock she sang for happiness. She wished she +could earn it by making someone else happy. Roger didn't count in that +way. The credit would be to do things for a person you didn't love. + +"To the first creature I meet to-day, who needs help, I'll give it," she +said to herself. "I'll do something big ... like sacrificing on an +altar." + +She went out in Roger's latest present, a limousine car, so silent and +so swift that it travelled like a cloud-shadow. Outside the car was dark +blue; inside, the pale azure of a robin's egg. Beverley told the +chauffeur to drive to Moreton and Payntor's, avoiding traffic because +she was in a hurry. To do this, he approached the shop by passing +through a side street in which was the entrance for employees, as well +as that leading to minor departments, and so connecting with the main +shop. It was comparatively a quiet street, but to-day there was a crowd. +Something had happened, and only a moment ago, for a policeman was just +coming up. The chauffeur would have hurried by to spare Mrs. Sands what +might be an unpleasant sight, but on one of her impulses she stopped +him. The car windows were open. Beverley heard the words "Poor child" +and "Ambulance." She opened the door and jumped out. Because she was +beautiful and beautifully dressed, and had a fine car, people made way +for her. + +On the pavement a girl was lying. There was some blood, and that would +have made Beverley sick, if the face streaked red hadn't struck her as +the most tragic, the most pathetic face she had ever seen. It was so +ghastly white, so thin, and yet so young! + +"What is it? What's happened?" she inquired of the innermost group. + +"Chucked herself out of a fourth story window," a fat woman answered. +"Somebody was beastly to her, I guess." + +"Is she dead?" Beverley asked. + +"Not yet ... though she must be a bag o' broken bones. She'll die on the +way to hospital, likely, in the ambulance, with nobody to care." + +At that instant, as if she heard the terrible words, the girl's eyes +opened. It seemed to Beverley that they looked straight at her. + +Suddenly she remembered her own resolve. It had been almost a vow: "To +the first creature I meet to-day who needs help I'll give it." + +Here was the creature. If ever there were an appeal in human eyes, it +was in these. Perhaps it was an unconscious appeal. Perhaps the brain +had been stunned asleep, but the deep-down soul was awake. It was +calling to Beverley's soul, and the call had to be answered, or the vow +would be broken. Roger Sands' wife dared not break such a vow lest she +should be punished and lose her magical happiness. + +She hated the sight of blood. She wanted to think that, if the girl were +dying, she could do no good. Yet, while reason argued, instinct had +already decided that this was the claimant of the vow. Beverley knelt +down beside the curiously flat-looking body which lay on the pavement. +Her dress dipped into a widening pool of blood, but she did not sicken +as she had thought she would. And to her own surprise she found her hand +stroking back a lock of dark red hair from the upturned face. Poor, +thin, child's face! + +"Don't be afraid, you're going to be loved and cared for," she promised. + +By this time a doctor had arrived. He, too, knelt by the sufferer. He +spoke to Beverley, thinking she had some acquaintance with the injured +girl. The police had cleared away the sensation seekers, but the lovely +lady of the blue automobile was left in peace. She seemed to be helping +the doctor. + +"Keep off, please, keep off," the policemen repeated. "The ambulance'll +be round any instant." + +But the ambulance did not take its cue. This was strange, for the +service was splendidly prompt. A man ran up bringing news that there'd +been a collision with a trolley. No one was hurt, but it meant a delay +before another ambulance could be called and respond. + +"Can't we take her away in my car?" asked Beverley. "Oh, why shouldn't I +have her at my house? She's only a child, so thin and frail! Loving care +might save her. I'd have a trained nurse in. I'm Mrs. Roger Sands. You +may know my husband's name." + +The name of Roger Sands was impressive. So was Beverley, and so was the +car. The ambulance wasn't at hand, and time pressed. It seemed as if the +offer might be accepted. The doctor was the physician engaged to attend +the employees of Moreton and Payntor, and had authority in the +neighbourhood. To test Mrs. Roger Sands' character he abruptly ordered +her into the surgical department--"ground floor, close by the side +street entrance"--to "fetch out a stretcher and be quick." Beverley +responded without hesitation, and in two minutes a startled boy appeared +with a canvas thing like a cot. + +The doctor and one of the policemen got the childish body on to this +while Beverley darted to her waiting chauffeur. He--Robbins, an elderly +Englishman--was furious, but short of giving notice then and there, +could do nothing save obey. The folding chairs were pulled out: on one +was piled the car's best ornament, a large chinchilla rug, and some blue +silk cushions. These gave support for the foot of the stretcher, its +head resting on the seat; and the other folding chair was taken by the +doctor who, sitting there, could hold his patient safely in place. Mrs. +Roger Sands scrambled up beside her chauffeur, and did not even notice +that the man's face was a thundercloud. + +Robbins could have cried. His last situation in England had been with a +duke. He would still have occupied it, had he not long passed the +"smart" age. Roger Sands had thought him an excellent guardian for +Beverley. Robbins didn't approve of America, but he had approved of his +mistress. There had seemed to him something queenly about her which +"reminded him of home," but to-day he was ashamed of her: to drive +through the streets of New York sitting on the front seat beside him, as +if she were a lady's maid! Worse than all, her dress, her gloves, were +stained with blood. As for the inside of the new car, it would be +ruined. The man felt responsible, and believed that his master would +consider him so. Sitting beside Mrs. Sands, with the look of an inferior +Roman statue on his square face, the chauffeur resolved to see Mr. Sands +before the tale of this morning's work could be told by Sands' American +chauffeur, who drove him to and from the office. The Englishman decided +to bribe the American to "lend his job" that afternoon. They could +arrange an excuse. Harter had a cold. But, as it happened, Roger Sands +read of the affair in a second edition of an evening paper while he +waited for his car. + +To see Beverley's name in big letters gave him a shock. He became +conscious that somewhere within him had always been a horror of finding +his wife's name in a newspaper, heading "scarelines." His first feeling +as he read on was of relief. Why, this was nothing! + +Some reporter had worked up the incident into a romance, and his editor, +appreciating Roger Sands' importance, had given it nearly a whole +column. On the surface it was a tribute to Mrs. Sands' goodness of +heart; but as Roger's rush of thankfulness passed, he began to see an +unpleasant side of the business. + +The reporter had interviewed various persons in the firm of Moreton and +Payntor. He had learned that the girl befriended by Mrs. Roger Sands was +employed in the restaurant for women "assistants." By certain of these, +she had been suspected of small thefts. They had watched her, and it was +in the midst of a "scene" following an accusation, that the waitress had +suddenly flung herself out of a fourth story window. She was an Irish +girl not long in New York. Her name was Clo Riley, and she had been in +the employ of Moreton and Payntor for nearly seven months. She had made +no friends, and was considered "Mysterious." + +At the Park Avenue apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Roger Sands an interview +had been refused; but the reporter had learned from a servant that, if +the invalid were "a dear relative" of Mrs. Sands, she could not be more +lovingly cared for. The largest and handsomest spare room had been +hastily prepared, a trained nurse engaged, and a famous surgeon had been +called in consultation with the doctor who had undertaken the case. +Following these details came a description of Mrs. Roger Sands, gleaned +from an "eye witness" of the "sensational scene" enacted in the street. + +The story developed strangely to Roger. He saw something behind it. He +knew things about Beverley which, he trusted, few others knew, and saw +the affair in another light. + +Roger's marriage experiment was a success. He was glad that he had taken +the girl "as she stood." To have what she had called a "figure cut off +its background out of an unseen picture," was better than to have lost +forever a figure of such beauty. He believed that Beverley was as good +as she was sweet, but she had been right in her prophecy; it was +hideous, sometimes, to see her outlined against darkness. + +The incident had happened close to Moreton and Payntor's department +store. Beverley had been in the habit of going there lately. She might +have had a reason for choosing that shop. Indeed, it struck Roger as +incredible that even her impulsiveness could lead her so far, for a +stranger's sake. Besides, why hadn't she telephoned? It looked as if she +were determined to carry out her scheme before he could oppose it. + +In this mood he went to his automobile. He was surprised to see Robbins, +but not sorry, because Robbins had been mixed up in the morning's +affair. + +"What's this I've been reading in the _Evening Star_?" he broke in. + +Here was luck for Robbins! He began to excuse himself for the disgrace +which had fallen upon the new car. "It was the mistress's order, sir, +and I had no choice; but I can't help thinking if she'd known what a +mess the blood would make, she'd 'ave let me call a taxi." + +"Another lining is easily put in," said Roger, coolly; but he was angry +for the first time with Beverley. Of all women, she was the one who +ought to think twice before doing a thing to get herself talked about; +but she never thought twice. As he drove homeward, doubts of her crowded +into his mind. + +At home, Beverley was in the room which had been turned into a hospital +ward. The nurse had called her, to announce that the "patient" had +returned to consciousness and had begun asking questions. + +"I saw it would worry her to be put off," went on Sister Lake, "so I +told her a few things. She remembered throwing herself out of the +window, and the fall, and then waking up, lying in the street. She said +she'd dreamed of an angel-girl bending over her. When she heard what +you'd done, she insisted on speaking to you." + +"I'll go at once!" Beverley exclaimed. + +"Just for a few minutes," the nurse hinted. + +Beverley let herself be led in. The room looked strange to her. The +servants, directed by the doctor, and later by the trained nurse, had +swiftly, noiselessly made the changes before the girl came back to +herself. The curtains had been taken down, and rugs cleared away from +the parquet floor. Most of the furniture had disappeared, and on a glass +table were a number of bottles. The bed faced the door, and as Mrs. +Sands softly entered a pair of eyes looked at her. Beverley's heart +jumped as her eyes met them. She had not known how immense and dark they +were, or that they were beautiful. + +The nurse drew Mrs. Sands near to the bed, and issued her orders before +the girl could open her lips. + +"Neither of you must talk much," she commanded. "Mrs. Sands has come to +let you see that she exists, and you can thank her if you like, but she +mustn't stay many minutes." + +"Sister Lake is right," said Beverley. "You mustn't excite yourself. +You're going to get well; and this is your home." + +"I'm not excited," the girl answered, in a low, monotonous voice, hardly +above a whisper. "But I had to see you, and tell you this one thing. I +didn't want to live, because ... I was miserable, and everyone hated me; +still, it seemed awful to die. You saved me. I wish to live now, if only +to show you what gratitude can be. I expect you're awfully rich. I'm +poorer than any church mouse. It doesn't look as if I could do anything +for one like you. But who knows? There was a mouse once helped a lion. +It gnawed a hole in a net. I feel as if the time must come when I can do +as much, because I want to so dreadfully. That's all!" + + + + +IV + +THE MURMUR OF THE STORM + + +It seemed that everything were to go wrong with Roger Sands that day. He +had felt for the last few months that a cloud had risen between him and +John Heron, whose cause he had won in California. If ever a business man +owed a debt of gratitude to the brains of another, John Heron owed such +a debt to Roger Sands, who had risked not only his reputation, but even +his life against the powerful enemies of the alleged "California Oil +Trust King." Heron had appeared fully to appreciate this; and before +Roger left for New York had been almost oppressively cordial, begging in +vain that Roger would visit him and his wife, a famous beauty with +Spanish blood in her veins. He had written once, immediately after +Sands' departure, and had telegraphed congratulations on reading the +news of Roger's marriage. But the friendly reply had remained +unacknowledged. The wedding present of a gold tea service had been +accompanied by no letter, only a card with the names of "Mr. and Mrs. +John Heron." With Sands' thanks the correspondence ended.... This had +vexed Roger, who liked Heron and was not used to being slighted. The +only thing he could think of was Beverley's failure to enclose a note to +Mrs. Heron in his letter of thanks. She had argued that the present was +for him, really, and that if she wrote Mrs. Heron it would look +"pushing." + +Roger let the matter slide, and had written in his wife's name and his +own. At last he read in some newspaper that "Mr. and Mrs. John Heron +intended shortly to start for the east, where they would spend the +summer." Without waiting to consult Beverley he wrote, saying he had +read the news, and he and his wife hoped for a visit in their Newport +house as soon as it was ready. He had written, not from the office, but +from home, with the Park Avenue address on the paper. To-day, as he +entered his study, his eye lit on an envelope with John Heron's writing +upon it. + +The letter lay on the top of others on his desk, and instead of going to +find Beverley at once, as was his lover's custom, he sat down to read +his correspondence. + +The first letter he opened was Heron's, which consisted of a few lines +on one page. Roger's eyes took in the whole at a glance. + + DEAR MR. SANDS: + + My wife and I are obliged to you for your kind invitation, but + owing to the fact that we have already made a great number of + engagements I fear we shall be unable to give ourselves the + pleasure of accepting. + + Yours truly, + JOHN HERON. + +The blood rushed to Roger's forehead. He realized that this was a +deliberate insult. + +The last letter had begun "Dear Sands," and had been signed "Yours +gratefully ever." Roger was even more furious than mystified. "Next time +he wants me to pull him out of a death trap, he can whistle for his +pains!" + +At that instant Beverley tapped at the door, and half opened it to peep +in. + +This irritated Roger. He had told her from the first that she need not +knock at his study door. + +"How often have I begged you not to knock?" he broke out at her. "Come +in if you want to." + +It was the first time he had ever spoken crossly. Beverley started, and +the look on her face, instead of overwhelming Roger with remorse, +hardened him. + +Beverley's colour had been bright, but she turned pale as Roger flung at +her his scolding words. Seeing the letter in her husband's hand the +blood streamed back to her cheeks. If she could possibly have known and +recognized Heron's writing, it might have seemed that the sight of it +had struck her with fear. But no such far-fetched thought occurred to +her husband. + +"I--I'm sorry!" she said hastily. "I heard your voice--I supposed +someone was with you----" + +Roger forgot that he had spoken aloud. In silence he let the girl cross +the floor and sit down in the easy chair she called "hers." She dropped +into it as if her knees had given way, and looked at Roger. When he did +not speak, she could bear the suspense no longer. + +"You--you're reading a letter--I interrupted you?" + +"The letter's of no importance," said Roger, throwing it upon the desk. +"It's only from John Heron to tell me that he and his wife won't be able +to come and see us at Newport. One would suppose by his tone that he was +offended. Probably Mrs. Heron expected you to gush over the wedding +present, and has put him up to snubbing me because you didn't." + +"You asked the Herons to visit us? I--didn't know----" + +"I did ask them," Roger cut her short. "I heard they were coming East." + +"Oh, Roger, I couldn't have met them! If they'd accepted I should have +had to be ill, or--or go away!" Beverley exclaimed on one of her +impulses, which instantly she appeared to regret. "I'm glad you don't +like Mr. Heron's letter, because--you'll never ask them again! I haven't +done anything to annoy you, have I?" + +"You know best whether you have or not." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Is it necessary to ask? I came home intending not to question you. But +I must make one comment: you're surprised that I invite a friend to +visit us without consulting you. That seems inconsistent with what +you've done. I've read the evening paper, and----" + +"Oh, Roger! It's in the paper ... about that poor child and me?" + +"Naturally! You and I aren't nonentities." + +"You don't think I did wrong?" + +"Wrong's a big word. You've done something foolish, and inconsiderate to +me." + +"What harm can the child do to you?" + +"That depends upon what sort of 'child' she is! Perhaps you can give me +a better account of her than the _Evening Star_ gives!" + +"I can't give you any," said Beverley, in a trembling voice, "except +that she was the most pitiful thing I ever saw ... so young and +desperate, lying in pools of blood." + +"Which pools of blood you transferred to your new motor car, my present, +that I thought you valued." + +"Roger! What did the motor matter, compared with saving a life?" + +"Saving a life wasn't in question. An ambulance would have been on the +spot in a minute to take the girl to a hospital." + +"She wouldn't have had love in a hospital. I felt it was for lack of +love she'd tried to kill herself...." + +"A girl who steals her companions' money can't expect to have their +love...." + +"Oh! So that's what the newspaper says? I don't believe she stole. Wait +till you see the poor little thing, Roger." + +"I don't want to see her. Now she's here, she'll have to stay till she +dies, or can be safely moved. I've no wish to be cruel. But when she can +go, I want her to do so. I don't mind giving...." + +"You do mind giving faith and sympathy!" Beverley burst out. "Why should +you take me on faith, and refuse it to another? You knew nothing about +me ... I know nothing about this child...." + +"Ah, you're sure you know nothing about her!" His tone was bitter. + +"What could I know?" she echoed. "I brought her straight home, and she +hasn't been able to talk ... except a few words." + +"It occurred to me as rather odd you should do so much for a complete +stranger." + +"Oh, I see! You think I knew her ... before?" + +"I thought it possible. Her name put the idea into my head. I heard you +say it once ... in your ... sleep ... Riley ... or something like that." + +For the third time Beverley blushed, one of her fatal, agonized blushes. +The rush of blood forced tears to her eyes; and a certain strained look +in them, a quivering of the lips, brought back to Roger's mind a picture +of her in the train. That was the first time he had seen her blush. She +had said--he remembered well--"You are the only man I'm interested in," +and had blushed furiously. He had been sure then that she was no +adventuress. She had looked like a frightened child, and she looked like +one now. With that picture of the girl in the train came back another +recollection. She had asked if any man had inquired for her, or if any +"noticeable" person had sought his acquaintance. He had replied that +he'd not spoken with a soul except a man he knew slightly, a Congressman +from California named O'Reilly. He supposed that O'Reilly didn't +interest her? Upon this, with a desperate blush, she had made her +startlingly frank reply. + +As this came back, Roger's heart was no longer soft. What a fool he had +been, that day in the train, not to connect the girl's change of colour +with his mention of O'Reilly! She might have blurted out her compliment +to excuse the blush, instead of the blush having followed the +compliment. Good heavens! could Justin O'Reilly have been the man from +whom she wished to hide? + +"Perhaps the name you spoke in your sleep was O'Reilly!" he flung at his +wife. + +Beverley gathered herself together. + +"So all this time," she said, "you have been suspicious of me! And I was +so happy. I thought you were happy, too, but it's just as I was afraid +it would be, if I married you. You can't endure the strain!" + +"I have endured the strain," Roger defended himself; "because I loved +you as few men have ever loved, but the question is, have you deserved +it all?" + +"This is the moment I felt must come!" she said. "If I had only myself +to think of, don't you know I'd have told you everything? I warned you +how it would be ... how I should have to keep the secret not for a +little while, but for always! If you don't believe, if you think I lied +when I said no man had ever been anything to me ... if you think I lie +now, when I say I never saw or heard of this girl till I found her in +the street.... I can go out of your life.... I can go to-day!" + +As she spoke slowly, sentence by sentence, with a sobbing breath +between, Beverley looked straight into her husband's eyes. Hers did not +falter though they swam in tears. With her last words, she rose and +stood facing him as he sat at his desk. + +Roger gave her back gaze for gaze, as if he would read her secret +written in cypher on her soul. He saw that she meant what she said. A +word from him, and their experiment was at an end. She would go. It +seemed to him that never had her beauty been so gentle, so womanly. + +"You shan't go!" he cried, springing to his feet. "I can't give you up!" + +But she held him off. + +"No!" she panted. "I won't stay if you want me only in that way--because +you have a kind of love for me, whether you believe in me or not. I love +you too much to be shamed by you! Either you trust me, or you don't. Say +which it is, and I'll stay, or go." + +"I've got to trust you! I do!" The words seemed to burst from him. "You +know I love you more than all the world. It would kill me to lose you." + +"I'd rather die from the shock of losing you, Roger, than from such a +hateful pain, going on and on----" + +"It shan't go on," he said. "I've been happy, too. I'm a changed man +since the hour I saw you and loved you. It's only to-day I've been +wretched. Forgive me, Bev--and God forgive you if----" + +"There's an 'if' for you?" + +"No--no, there's no 'if' any more. You're to forgive me----that's all!" + +"Oh, I do! The hard thing would be not to forgive. But--can we go on +being happy again, just as if nothing had happened?" + +"Of course we can, silly child. Nothing has happened." Roger had her in +his arms now. He kissed her over and over again, till she gasped for +breath. "This has only cleared the air. As for that beastly child, I +don't care if she's a murderess. Keep her forever, if you choose. Train +her as your maid----" + +"But she's not 'beastly!' And she's not the kind to have for a maid. I +think she's a lady. She seems----" + +"Well, do whatever you like with her. Can I go further, to show you I +want to atone?" + +"No, you can't, Roger----" Beverley nestled her face into his neck. "I +adore you!" + +She closed her eyes, but opening them she happened, looking over Roger's +shoulder, to see John Heron's letter on her husband's desk. A faint +shiver ran through her body, and Roger felt it. + +"What's the matter, my darling?" he asked. + +"Nothing!" she answered. "A mouse ran over my grave." + + + + +V + +ON THE WAY TO THE CAR + + +Beverley found that she could "be happy again, as if nothing had +happened" between her and Roger. For one thing, it was wonderful to feel +that she had the power to "save" a fellow-being, and wonderful to be +worshipped as Clo worshipped her. Of course, Roger "worshipped" her, +too, but it was Beverley who looked up to him. Clo looked up to her. +When Beverley went into the room presided over by Sister Lake, the +child's great black eyes dwelt upon her as the eyes of a devotee upon +the form of a goddess "come alive." Roger Sands' wife felt simply that +she was repaying God for saving her, by what she was able to do for this +Irish girl. + +As soon as Clo was allowed to talk she insisted upon telling Beverley +about herself. There was, apparently, no romance or mystery in the story +of her eighteen years of life. Her mother had died when she was less +than three, but Clo could "remember her perfectly." It wasn't only the +photograph she had (a badly taken one of a young woman with a baby in +her arms), but she could see her mother's colouring. Oh, such lovely +colouring! Not dark red hair, like her own, but gold, and eyes more +brown than gray. And mother had been only twenty-four when she died. Clo +had to admit that most of what she knew of mother was from the Sisters +who looked after the orphans. Yes, it was in an orphan asylum that the +child had been brought up. About father she knew nothing, except that +mother had "lost" him before her baby was born, and that he "came from +America." Evidently his name had been Riley, because mother was Mrs. +Riley, and Clo was Clodagh because "that was a name in mother's family." + +The Sisters had been particularly kind. Mother had given Clo into their +care, because she lodged, and had fallen ill, in the street of the +orphan asylum. There had been a little money, which was placed in a bank +for the child. The Sisters had known that mother was a lady; but the +orphan girls, when they grew up, were supposed to be put into service. +Neither Clo nor the Sisters had wanted her to be a servant, and when she +was sixteen a situation was found for her as "companion" to an old lady. +Clo "stuck it out" for nearly two years. Then she ran away and sailed +for the United States, her unknown father's land, with the sixty pounds +which was her fortune. This money was all spent, and she was nearly +starving when she snatched at what she could get with Moreton and +Payntor. + +"But I just couldn't eat and dress on my wages," Clo explained, in her +soft, rich voice, rather deep for so young and small a girl, and made +creamy by a touch of Irish brogue. "One has to do both in New York. I +was so hungry all the time, if the girls left a crust on their plates I +used to hide it. I expect the way I'd look to see if there'd be anything +left gave them the idea I was a sly piece. They thought I put on airs, +too. Me! P'raps it was my not knowing their kind of slang. And it's true +I did steal once, or almost the same thing as steal. There was a dollar +bill on the floor under a table one afternoon. 'Stead of trying to find +who was the owner, I slipped it inside my dress. I must have been nearly +off my head, or I'd never have done it, darling Mrs. Sands! When the +time came to go home to my room that night, I didn't go. I went to a +restaurant, and I ate. I ate a whole dollar's worth of dinner, just so I +couldn't give any money back if I changed my mind next day. Well, next +day was the day you know of. And what with knowing I was a thief, and +the girls knowing it, too--though there was no proof--I thought the best +thing for a lost child was to die!" + +Beverley had by this time "made everything right" for Clo at Moreton and +Payntor's. Indeed, Mrs. Roger Sands having taken her up, she had become +quite a classic figure of romance among her late enemies. When Beverley +told the girl that when she got well she wouldn't have to go, but could +stop and be "a sort of secretary," Clo Riley almost had a relapse from +the shock of joy. + +By the end of May Clo's broken ribs had mended. The first day when she +was up and dressed, able to go downstairs, and out for a spin in the +renovated blue car, she was a very different looking girl from the +battered wisp of humanity whose blood had stained the "robin's-egg" +cloth and silk. + +It was Sunday, and Clo was burning with excitement. She was to meet her +Angel's husband for the first time. She had pictured him a dragon. The +Angel loved him, but the Angel was such a saint, and would love any old +husband. Clo imagined that Beverley had been poor (she must have known +poverty to be so sympathetic!) and that she'd married an elderly man +because--well, not entirely because he was rich (that wouldn't be like +an Angel) but because she needed protection. Clo expected to see a +grumpy graybeard. + +Roger expected to see a washed-out invalid of indefinite type, a young +woman of the shabbiest shop-girl order. + +What Clodagh saw, when she followed Mrs. Sands into the study, was a +strong, dark man, not old at all, apparently, and almost interesting +enough in looks to be worthy of the Angel. Still, she was not sure she +was going to like him. + +What Roger saw was a small, slender girl, too childish, too impish, to +think of as a "young woman." She had a little oval face with a pointed +chin. It was pale, but not washed-out, and her lips were red. An +obstinate, impudent mouth, Roger thought. As for her eyes--he had never +seen such great eyes in a human face. They were like holes in a blanket, +so big, so black, as they stared up at him. She had curly auburn hair, +that looked even redder than it was, in contrast with her eyes. But +though the face was impish, not pretty precisely, with its high cheek +bones and impertinent chin, he had to admit that it was noticeable, and, +in some odd way, attractive. The girl was charmingly dressed. He might +have known that Bev would see to that. Clo was a surprise to him, as he +was to her. Each saw that the other was a distinct and interesting +personality; and Roger realized that Beverley was right; the girl had +the air of being a lady. There was something else about her, too, which +piqued him. He could not make out what it was. Did she look like someone +he knew? + +He was polite, as he had promised to be, and called Clo "Miss Riley." +When Beverley said that they were going out for the invalid's first +drive, Roger replied that he was glad; but Clo, catching his eye, +fancied she saw a sarcastic gleam. + +"He's thinking of the time I came here in that same car," she told +herself. "I know I must have spoilt it--got it all messed up with blood. +Probably he had to give a lot for doing it over. And my goodness, the +dollars of his that Angel has been pouring out for me every day since! +No wonder he looks sick! But some day I shall pay. I don't know how, +only I shall--I shall!" + +Beverley and Clo went down in the gorgeously decorated elevator. + +"If Angel lived in a garret, it would be a palace to me," she reflected. + +A hall porter opened the door of carved bronze over glass. Without +seeming to look, he took in every detail of the slim figure in white +cloth; the small white hat tilted over the dark red hair, the tiny white +shoes, the dainty ankles in silk stockings. Clo could have laughed +aloud. Of course, the giant in livery knew the whole story. He was +contrasting the way she came out with the way she had come in. + +Drawn up at the pavement was the glittering blue automobile, with the +statuesque Robbins at the wheel. Clo remembered both, with a queer, sick +pang. She had not been wholly unconscious when the stretcher was pushed +into the car. "What I owe this darling woman!" was the thought she +breathed like a prayer. + +As the two crossed the pavement--tall, beautiful Beverley and quaint +little Clo--a man who must have been loitering close by started toward +them with a limping step, and took off his hat. + +"Is this Mrs. Roger Sands?" he asked. + +Beverley stopped short, within a yard of her car. For such a graceful, +softly moving person, her movement seemed jerky. Clo glanced from the +man to Mrs. Sands in surprise. One would say the Angel looked +frightened, only that would be absurd! Besides, the man wasn't a +creature worth being afraid of. He was short, and very thin, as if he +had been ill. He hadn't a nice face. Sallow and sickly it was, like a +prison bird, with hollows under the red-rimmed eyes. He was badly lame, +too, if he wasn't pretending; and altogether, in spite of her newly +mended ribs, Clo felt that she herself would be equal to knocking him +down. + +"Yes, I am Mrs. Sands," Beverley answered, as if against her will. "I +don't--but perhaps someone has sent you with a message?" + +"In a way, yes, that's it," said the man. "I had a message for you. I'm +the man sent to meet you in Chicago, September 21st of last year." + + + + +VI + +THE PARCEL WITH THE GOLD SEALS + + +There was a second of suspense for Clo, and then Beverley spoke quietly: + +"Oh, I see! That's very interesting," she said. "I hope--the news is +good?" + +"It's a long message," the man answered. "I was told to let you have it +in person. I thought you'd be goin' out sooner or later. If your husban' +'ad bin along, I'd have left a line, but----" + +"Never mind what you would have done, please," Beverley cut him short. +"The best thing I can think of now, is this" (she hurried on in a low +tone, and Clo who had stepped aside, nearer to the car, did not catch +the words), "Take a taxi, and follow my automobile. We're going into the +Park. When you see us stop, you must stop too, at a distance. + +"I shall get out and let the motor, with my friend in it, go on without +me for a while. Then we can talk. Do you understand?" + +"I'll be there," said the man. + +He touched his hat and moved away, as if his errand were done. + +"Drive slowly through the Park," Beverley instructed Robbins, and gently +made Clo get into the car before her. "I'm so sorry to have kept you +standing, dear," she said. "I hope you don't feel weak or 'tottery'?" + +Clo did feel very weak, not from fatigue, but from excitement. She +replied that she felt "grand." And Mrs. Sands forgot to say that she was +glad. + +The girl glanced at the older woman, and saw that she was staring +straight ahead, with a withdrawn look in her eyes, which told that she +saw nothing. Clo's heart beat fast. This drive was to have been a +glorious experience. She had seen Central Park more than once, and had +walked there, miserable in her loneliness. Now, though she looked out of +the window, it was to let Beverley feel that she was not being stared +at. The girl saw only a blur of colour, as if a kaleidoscope turned +before her eyes. + +At last Beverley spoke. + +"Dear child," she said, "I'm sure you understand that the man who was +waiting for me brought a message I'm anxious to hear. And--I'm sure of +another thing--that I can trust you!" + +"I'd die any minute for you, sure I would!" she cried. + +"I believe you would! But I don't want you to die. All I want is for you +to listen while I explain----" + +"As if you needed to explain to me!" the girl broke out. + +"I don't need to, perhaps, yet I wish to say just this: I love Roger +dearly. I've told you so often enough! I'd give anything on earth not to +have a secret from him. But to save a life--not my own--there is a +secret I must keep. This man and his message are part of it. Now, that's +all I'm going to explain, except that--that nothing must be said." + +"I'd bite my tongue out sooner!" Clo protested. + +"Thank you, dear! Now we've had this talk, it's a comfort, not a worry, +having you with me. You won't mind if I send you on while I get down and +walk in the Park?" + +"I'd love it!" said Clo. + +At once Beverley took the speaking tube and ordered the chauffeur to +stop. He drew up at the side of the road. They were in the midst of the +Park now, an exquisite green and gold world of peace and beauty. + +"I feel like taking a little exercise," Beverley said to Robbins, as she +stepped out of the car. "Miss Riley isn't strong enough to walk. Go as +far along Riverside Drive as Grant's Tomb, and then come back, but +slowly, so she can see everything. You'll find me waiting here." + +It seemed that Robbins carried out his instructions too laboriously. Clo +didn't like the ferret-man, and she didn't believe that Beverley liked +meeting him. + +When at last Robbins brought the car back to the rendezvous there was +the tall graceful figure in gray, standing alone. + +"Oh, have we kept you?" the girl cried, throwing open the door before +the automobile stopped. + +Beverley did not answer, or seem to hear. She did not even look at Clo. + +"Home!" she said to Robbins. "As fast as you can!" + +Clo was shocked into silence, and hardly breathed when Beverley had sunk +on to the seat, covering her face with her hands. The car had nearly +reached the Sands' corner of Park Avenue before the elder girl spoke. +Then she said abruptly, as if waking from a dream: + +"Forgive me! I couldn't talk! I'm in dreadful trouble! I must ask you to +help me. Are you strong enough to take a longer drive, and to walk a few +steps alone?" + +"Rather!" said Clo. + +"Well, when we stop in front of our house, sit still in the car. I don't +want Sister Lake or Roger to know we're back. I'll run in, get a parcel +which must be taken to a certain place, and give it to you. Then Robbins +will drive (I'll tell him) to a hotel on Broadway, called the +Westmorland. I never heard of it before, but it seems that it's near 33d +Street, and quiet and respectable. Go into the restaurant and order tea. +While you're there, that man you saw will come into the room, and you'll +hand him the packet. That's all." + +"It sounds too easy," Clo said. + +"I hope it will be easy. I'll bring you a latch-key when I come down +with the parcel. Let yourself in when you get home, and go straight to +your room. I don't want you to fib, but try to make it seem to Sister as +if we'd just come back. She'll think it strange if she knows I've sent +you out on an errand by yourself." + +"She shan't know," the girl promised. + +"You _are_ a comfort! You see, I told Roger I'd be at home by four, and +I couldn't be, till long after if I took the parcel myself. I shall only +just be in time as it is. Here we are at the door! Now I'll rush. In +five minutes I hope to be with you again. Oh, if only Sister Lake isn't +at the window!" + +The five minutes passed, and Beverley didn't return. Clo watched the +silver-gilt clock under the vase of violets. Ten minutes; fifteen +minutes; no Mrs. Sands! The girl was wondering whether she ought to wait +indefinitely, or seek her friend to see what had happened when Beverley +appeared. She was breathless with haste. + +"Here, take this, and do just as I told you to do," she said, thrusting +into Clo's hands a bag, not a parcel. "Inside you'll find what I spoke +of, and money to pay for your tea. I had to hide the parcel. I can't +stop to explain more now." She turned to the chauffeur, and hastily +ordered him to drive to the Westmorland Hotel. Miss Riley had to meet a +friend there; Robbins must wait till she was ready to come home. + +Only as the car slowed down in front of the third-rate hotel did Clo +touch the hasp of the gray suede bag. It was not locked, and save for a +crumpled dollar bill, its sole contents was a large, unaddressed +envelope fastened with three gold seals. On each of these seals was the +same elaborate monogram, which Clo did not try to make out; but it was +not composed of Beverley Sands' initials. Evidently the parcel had been +crammed into the first handy receptacle, for it was all but too big to +go in, and Clo found it difficult to extract without damaging the seals. +Leaving the bag on the seat, she hid the envelope under the smart, white +cloth cape which went with her new frock. + +The restaurant of the hotel opened off the hall. At that hour, a little +after four o'clock, there was no one in the room but a waiter. Afternoon +tea was evidently not a daily custom of the Westmorland's guests, but +when it was brought at length, the ferret-man had not yet arrived. + +"Oh, dear, what shall I do if he doesn't come?" Clodagh asked herself, +thinking fearfully about the chauffeur--and about Sister Lake. + +Just then the face of the ferret man appeared at the door. He glanced +about, fixed the girl with his red-rimmed eyes, slouched into the room, +and limped briskly to the table. + +"Hello!" he exclaimed, with a familiar grin, and pulled out a chair to +sit opposite Clo. He kept on his hat. His breath reeked spirits, and the +girl was disgusted, but she was the faithful servant of Mrs. Sands, and +the waiter was staring. + +"Here's the parcel Mrs. Sands sent. She particularly wanted me to get +back as soon as possible." + +The long envelope, with the gold seals uppermost, was lying on the +table. Clo removed a napkin she had laid over it, and pushed the parcel +across the table. As she did this she rose. + +"Looks right enough!" remarked the ferret man, sitting still. "This +is what she told me to expect: long white envelope, three gold +seals----" He picked the parcel up, holding it to his sharp nose and +near-sighted eyes. "Yeh, munergram, or what yuh call it, right, too." + +"Then that's all," said Clo, Beverley's dollar bill in her hand. "I'll +call the waiter----" + +"Don't be too previous, cutie, _if_ you please!" and a not immaculate +hand helped itself to a fold of her dress. "Yuh an' me ain't workin' +this show on our own. You're for Mrs. Sands, I'm fur--well, I'm fur +someone I guess is even more particular than her. It's as much as my +job's worth to let yuh make your get-away till I've had a squint inside +this yere envelup." + +"Mrs. Sands didn't tell me there was anything to wait for after I'd put +it in your hands," Clo objected. "I don't see----" + +"It's me that's got to see. Now yuh keep yer hair on, gurlie, while I +lamp this thing. No good tryin' the sneak game, because I'd be on to yuh +like a thousand o' brick before yuh'd took a step----" + +"I've no intention of running away," Clo assured him, with a dignity +copied from her idol. "Mrs. Sands has nothing to hide." + +The man chuckled, as with a knife taken from the table he opened the +envelope without breaking the seals. He did this slowly. Clo sat down +again. + +The ugly hands drew out from the envelope another smaller envelope. +There were no seals on it, but the flap was stuck with gum. The man +swore under his breath as he used the knife again. Clo was deeply +interested. Her idea was that the fellow would pull out a quantity of +greenbacks; but in an instant she saw that she had guessed wrong. There +were many sheets of paper folded together, at least a dozen, and this +seemed to astound the man. With a jerk he opened out the sheaf of +papers, and having stared an instant, slammed them on to the table. +"Curse her, she thought she'd do us, did she?" The words tumbled out +between his brown, broken teeth, as he dashed his fist on to the papers. +"So this is why she sent you--you catspaw!" + +Clo was far from being a coward. Her hot, defiant temper rose at the +least alarm, but she was so amazed at the result of her errand that she +was struck dumb. Mechanically her eyes had turned to the papers. She saw +that the upper sheets consisted of blank stationery taken from a train, +the Santa Fe Limited. + +"If you're trying to scare me, you can't," she said. "You're acting like +a fool. If something's gone wrong in your business, it isn't my fault, +and I'm sure it isn't Mrs. Sands. If there's a trick, she's tricked, +too. Try to have common sense." + +The girl's fearless gaze and quickly spoken words calmed the man. + +"It's darned rot to say my lady who stayed at home ain't in the trick. +Why, dumbhead, this paper shows! She was on board the Limited. Gee! +Don't I have cause to know that? It's easy as slidin' off a log to see +what she done. She helped herself to what was in this yere envelope, an' +filled it with train stationery. Then she sealed it up with the same +kind o' seals. Stole the stamp and wax on purpose. Thought she could get +away with it. I take off my hat to her." + +"I know nothing except that I agreed to bring the parcel," said Clo. + +"You go back to her ladyship as fast as you can scamper, and tell her I +wasn't soft enough to bow myself off the stage without peepin' at what +Santa Claus had put in my stockin'. Tell her 'twould only o' bin a +matter o' time if I hadn't peeped. As it is, it's a matter o' less time. +Tell her a life will pay for this, and she jolly well knows whose!" + +The man had ceased to bluster, and now that he had got himself in hand +again his fierce eyes and his low, hissing voice thrilled the girl as +his threats had not thrilled her. This time he allowed her to rise, +which she did, tottering slightly. She had forgotten about paying for +her tea, but the dollar bill lay in a crumpled wad on the table. The man +placed one of his oddly repulsive hands over it. + +"I'll see to the waiter," he said. "I'm stayin' in this hotel. You cut +along and tell your lady friend she's got till ten o'clock to-night to +explain herself, not a minute more. Good day to you, Miss Baby Doll!" + +Without answering, Clo walked out of the room, ashamed that her knees +were weak, and hoping that she could get safely to the car without +making a fool of herself. Physically, it was a great relief to lie back +against the soft cushions of robin's egg blue, and shut her eyes. What +would Angel do when she heard how dreadfully the errand had failed? + +Clo had forgotten the difficulty of making Sister Lake believe, without +a fib, that she and Mrs. Sands had only just come in from their drive +together. But she remembered as she went up in the elevator. It was very +late now--long after five. Sister was sure to be cross; but if she were +cross only with Clo, and not Mrs. Sands, that wouldn't matter. + +Few things work out according to expectations. Sister Lake had been at +the window, it seemed, when the car brought back Mrs. Sands and Clo +before four o'clock, and had been alarmed when the former descended to +hurry alone into the house. + +"I was afraid you'd fainted," she said when Clo arrived at last. "I flew +out of this room to go down in the elevator, and bumped into Mr. Sands +in the hall, and while I was apologizing and making him understand she +appeared on the scene." + +"My goodness, the fat _is_ in the fire!" Clo thought desperately. Aloud +she said: "Well?" + +"She said you wanted to go to tea with someone, and she was hurrying to +her room to get money for you, so that you could stand treat. I +objected, as I had a right to do," went on Sister Lake. "You're still my +patient, if my time is up to-morrow. And if you have a relapse I shall +be in a nice fix, as I'm due at Mrs. Jardine's Tuesday morning! Mrs. +Sands really acted very queer, she was so determined you should go. Even +when her husband backed me up, she was as obstinate as--as--if she +wasn't such a sweet woman, I should say a pig!" + +"It was my fault," pleaded Clo. "I'm not tired a bit." Yet as she +argued, a voice was saying inside her head: "No wonder the poor darling +was a long time coming down with the parcel!" + +But this, though exciting enough, was as naught beside the great +question: "What would Beverley say, what would she feel, when Clo had to +confess all that had happened at the Hotel Westmorland?" + + + + +VII + +THE QUEEN'S PEARLS + + +Roger also had a secret that Sunday. He waited for Beverley and Clo to +be gone (reminding his wife that she had promised to be back by four) +and then called up the Belmont Hotel by telephone. + +"Give me Count Lovoresco's room," he said, and presently a foreign +conception of the word "Hello!" rumbled through the receiver. + +"Hello, Count," Roger replied, recognizing the voice. "My wife's safely +off. I'll send my own car round at once. Now you've got the letter of +confirmation we can settle our business. What? You're ready? Thank you. +My man'll be at the hotel as soon as you can get down. Good-bye." + +Fifteen minutes later a dark, dapper, elderly man with magnificent eyes +was ushered into Roger's study. + +"You've brought the pearls, of course?" Roger asked. + +"Yes, Mistaire Sand, I bring ze pearls," announced Count Lovoresco. + +"And the letter from the Queen?" + +"From 'er Majesty's secretaire," Count Lovoresco corrected. "'Ere it +is." He drew from a breast pocket a square envelope with a crown and a +monogram on the flap. This he handed to Sands, and as the latter opened +it, he took from another pocket a purple velvet box, oval in shape, +about eight inches long by two in height. On the cover appeared a gold +crown, and the same monogram as that of the envelope. Roger had seen +this box and its contents; so, instead of watching a tiny gold key +fitted into a miniature padlock, he read the letter authorizing Count +Lovoresco, in the name of his Queen, to sell in America a rope of +pearls, for the benefit of the soldiers' orphans of her country. + +"This clears the deck," remarked Roger. The cover of the oval box was +raised, and lying in a series of concentric grooves he saw the pearls +which he intended to buy for Beverley. They were two hundred and fifty +in number, as he knew, and were graduated in size, the largest being as +big as a giant pea. All were exquisitely matched in shape and colour, +and the one fault--if fault existed--was a blue whiteness disliked by +some connoisseurs. Roger was aware, however, that Beverley loved +snow-white pearls. + +"Any minute Simon Lecourt may be here," he said to Lovoresco. "When he's +looked at the things, I'll sign and hand you my cheque for two hundred +and sixty thousand dollars." + +Lovoresco smiled under his dyed moustache, but the wonderful eyes, for +which men of his race are famous, lit angrily. + +"You are ze most prudent of gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "Your great +Franco-American pearl expert, 'e 'as valued ze pearls one time already +at 'is own place, under your eye, Mistaire Sand. Now 'e 'as to come to +your 'ouse! Mazette! But you must tink me a smart one, saire, if I could +change false tings for real in ze last minute!" + +"I think some other smart men might have changed them without you or me +being smart enough to know the difference," Roger explained. "I believe +in making a ship watertight before she goes to sea." + +"You are right," Lovoresco said, shrugging his shoulders. "I am pleased +once more to meet ze expert." + +"Mr. Simon Lecourt," announced the butler. + +At a quarter to four--the cheque having been signed--Roger was shaking +hands with the jewel expert he had summoned, and bowing to Count +Lovoresco. The pearls were his, and he was impatient for Beverley. In +five or six minutes she ought to arrive. + +Beverley stepped into the lift as Count Lovoresco and Simon Lecourt +stepped out. As they passed she heard Roger's name, and her heart +jumped. These were strangers to her, but they had perhaps been calling +on Roger. What if they were connected with the past terror which had +begun lately to seem as dim as a dreadful dream? What if they had been +telling Roger? + +Such a thought would not have come, save for the scene she had gone +through. With her nerves keyed to breaking point she went up to her own +floor with somewhat the sensation she might have had in stepping from +the tumbril to the guillotine. It was all she could do not to scream at +Sister Lake in the hall; and when Roger appeared also it seemed to +Beverley that she would faint. + +Roger did not share the nurse's interest in Clo's outing; but he wanted +Beverley. + +"Good girl!" he exclaimed, trying to be gay. "You're back ahead of time. +Send one of the servants down with money for Miss Riley. Come into the +study; I've got something to show you. When you've seen it you'll know +why I asked you to be home by four." + +"I'll be there in a minute!" Beverley answered. "Let me take off my hat +first. I've rather a headache!" + +She turned toward her room, hoping that Roger would wait in the study, +thus giving her a chance to find what she had to find, and take it to +Clo in the waiting auto. But Roger, remorseful already for his disloyal +thought connecting her with O'Reilly, followed. + +"If you'd a prophetic soul," he said, "your headache would go. Are you +good at guessing, Bev?" + +The girl was at her wits' end. Already she had almost fibbed, in +explaining Clo's errand. If only, now, she could have five minutes' +grace! + +"You ought to know I never guess anything right!" she laughed. "It's not +quite four. Show me the wonderful thing just as the clock strikes!" + +Roger pulled out his watch. "All right, baby!" he teased her. "You've +got just three minutes and a half. Perhaps you think a woman needs that +time to take off her hat; I'll show you you're wrong!" + +He neatly extracted a hat pin which Beverley had twisted into her veil. +Then off came the hat. Roger led his wife by the hand to the door of his +study. Beverley was in despair. Her one cause for thankfulness lay in +the fact that he had forgotten Clo. If he'd remembered to send down +money, the girl would have been bewildered, and perhaps have come in to +ask for instructions. There was room in Beverley's brain for no other +thought than "How am I to get that parcel and give it to Clo?" + +"Shut your eyes," said Roger. "The clock's going to strike four now; +don't open your eyes till it stops." + +Beverley obeyed, as in that mood she would have obeyed an order to stand +still and be shot through the heart. "One--two," slowly struck the +grandfather clock in the corner; and she felt something cool and heavy +dropped over her neck. "Three--four!" the clock finished. "Open your +eyes," Roger gave the signal. + +"Oh!" cried Beverley, almost aghast. On her delicate gray dress the +double line of pearls glistened like huge drops of dew on a spider-web. +The rope hung down below her waist, and each pearl had a light in its +heart as if it held the ghost of a rainbow. "It can't be true! It's a +dream!" the girl stammered. She loved pearls, and knew that these were +marvels beyond common knowledge. But oh, if they could have come to her +at another time! + +She managed, however, to put a world of emotion into one kiss and clasp +of her arms. Her silent anguish was disguised as awe. By this time she +had an inspiration. She felt like the Queen of New York, she said. She +must run to her room for a look in the glass, as there was only a weird +old convex mirror in the study. In just a minute--or maybe two +minutes--she would come back. She could have sobbed out "Thank God!" +when Roger, laughing at her vanity, let her go. This time he did not +follow. He stood examining the purple velvet case with the Queen's crown +and monogram. He had not told Beverley the price he had given for the +pearls. He wondered if she guessed that they had cost a fortune. Why +didn't she come back? + +Beverley had not even thrown a glance at the mirror. In her own room she +tore open the drawer where her handkerchiefs were kept in rose-scented +sachet cases. The largest of these cases she snatched, throwing the +contents back into the drawer. With fingers that shook, she ripped the +top of the padded silk cushion, and extracted a long envelope sealed +with three gold seals. She would hardly have remembered the Queen's +pearls had the rope not caught in the key of the drawer as she turned +hastily to go. Before she could save it, the string broke, and pearls +big as peas began falling like hailstones. + +With a cry, she caught the broken ends of the rope together, dragged it +over her head and bundled it into the drawer among scattered +handkerchiefs. She did not even stop to close the drawer. As for the +fallen pearls--a dozen at least--there was no time to think of them, or +of what Roger would say when he heard of the accident. + +Crushing on her hat, which still lay on the bed where Roger had thrown +it, she ran from the room, stuffing the envelope into her handbag. Luck +favoured her. She got out of the flat and into the lift without being +seen. + +When five minutes had passed and Beverley was still away, Roger decided +to join her. He opened the bedroom door, and looked in. Something rolled +away from Roger's foot on the threshold. He stooped and picked the thing +up: it was an enormous pearl. + +A shock of fear thrilled through him. He thought that news of his +purchase might already have reached the underworld. In these few +minutes, while he calmly waited for Beverley, she might have been +murdered. Things like that did happen. He stepped on a second pearl, and +saw that others lay on the pale rose carpet. He stood staring. At the +foot of the bed a tall screen had been placed to keep the light from +Beverley's eyes in the morning. What if behind it he should find her +lying? + +As he braced himself to go and look, Beverley herself came into the +room. It seemed that she shrank at sight of him. + +"I thought you'd been kidnapped or killed!" he gasped. "What's +happened?" + +"N-n-nothing," she stammered. "It was only--we forgot about Clo--I had +to take her that money. I----" She broke off, seeing the pearl in +Roger's hand. "Oh, wasn't it dreadful that the rope snapped?" she +hurried on. "I wanted to get back to you quickly. I knew the pearls were +safe here. I just shut the door, and ran down." + +"So I see," Roger said drily. All the joy he had felt in his splendid +gift was gone. + +"What are a few pearls more or less compared to Miss Riley's +convenience?" + +"Oh, Roger!" Beverley burst into tears. "Don't look at me like that! +Don't speak to me like that! You think I don't value the pearls? I +do!--for themselves, and for your love! I acted on impulse----" + +"Quite so. You've done that before. Don't apologize, my dear girl. It's +not worth it. I care less for the things than you do. Ring for your maid +and let her sweep them up. I dare say she'll find them all to-day or +to-morrow!" + +"No," said Beverley, fighting back the hysterical sobs that choked her. +"No, I won't have anyone look for the pearls but myself. Unless you, +Roger, would show your forgiveness by helping me?" + +"I have an appointment," he answered. "I'm late for it now. I shall have +to go at once." + +It was not true. He had no appointment. But he felt that he must be +alone, and out of doors, in the fresh air. + +Clo Riley, returning from her errand at the Hotel Westmorland, did not +see him as she tripped from car to door, but Roger on his way home saw +the girl hurry in as if each second were important. Hardly had she +vanished when a man strolled round the corner. He was walking slowly, +and looking up at the facade as if interested. Roger, at the farther end +of the block, recognized Justin O'Reilly. + + + + +VIII + +BEVERLEY TALKS + + +Clo remembered Beverley's instructions, and went straight to her own +room, but the threat of the ferret-man rang in her ears. "Tell your lady +friend a life will pay for this. She's got till ten o'clock to-night, +and not a minute more." + +It was now after five, and Sister Lake was firmly bent upon undressing +her charge. Clo had to let herself be tucked into bed. Meekly also she +received the order to lie quite still and rest till dinner time. + +Rest! As though she could rest, not knowing what ought to be done next +to help the Angel! A passive plan occurred to Clo, which could do no +harm, and her quick wit suggested how best to carry it out. + +"I'll be as good as gold," she promised, "if you'll forgive me, Sister, +and do me a favour. I feel sick because I spoilt your afternoon! You +stayed in, waiting for me to come back, instead of taking your walk. +Will you go out now, instead? I'll rest better if you will. Do, please!" + +All Clo's Irish powers of persuasion were needed to coax Sister into +consenting. Eventually she relented. Clo could have sung for joy as +Sister Lake bade her "good-bye for an hour." As the door of the room +closed, the girl began counting the seconds which must pass before the +outer door shut. + +"Sixty-two--sixty-three--she ought to be gone!" Clo was whispering, when +her heart sank. The room door opened. She feared that Sister Lake had +changed her mind; but it was the Angel who came in. + +"I was racking my brain how to get rid of Sister when I saw her go out," +Beverley said. "I'm sure you managed it. I've been desperate. You can't +think what things have happened! Tell me, did all go well?" + +The blow must be struck. In a few words Clo described the scene at the +Westmorland; told how the ferret-man had kept her waiting; how he had +said that the envelope looked all right, but had insisted upon opening +it; how he had flown into a rage at finding only folded sheets of blank +paper. + +"Blank paper!" Beverley gasped. "But that's impossible! I know what was +in the envelope. There were letters. The man must have tricked you." + +Clo shook her head. + +"I was watching him. He had no time, or chance, to play a trick. The +blank paper was there, and nothing else. It was writing paper, quite a +lot of sheets that seemed to have been taken from some train, 'Santa Fe +Limited,' or a name like that." + +Beverley gave a cry, as if she had been struck over the heart. + +"Let me think," she groaned. "How can that have been? Writing paper +taken from the train?" + +Suddenly she turned, and came back to the bed, putting out her hands in +a groping way to Clo. The girl caught and held them tightly. They were +very cold. + +"Angel! is there nothing I can do?" she whispered. + +Beverley sank on the bed once more. + +"My head feels as if I'd been given ether," she said. "I can't think +things out clearly. That isn't like me! A terrible day! One shock after +another. If I talk to you, will you swear by all that's sacred never to +give away one word?" + +"I swear by my love for you. That's the most sacred thing I have, except +my locket with mother's picture," the girl answered. + +"You see," Beverley went on, "I've no one else but you, Clo. If I told +my husband anything, I should have to tell all. I daren't do that. Not +because I couldn't trust him. But I've taken an oath ten times more +solemn than the one you took just now, to keep a secret that isn't only +mine. Another's life depends on the secret being kept. To save that life +I was forced to do what I hate to think of. And it's no concern of +yours, but it would be Roger's if he had the faintest inkling! Now, I'm +going to tell you one or two things, and you must use your brains to +explain the mystery. You're clever, and true as steel. You've proved +that! Suppose a case; suppose you'd undertaken a dangerous mission. You +have in your charge some documents which could make or break a man. You +know you'll be followed. You nearly miss your train, but you jump on +board at the last minute. You see a man--not the one you expect, but +another just as much to be feared--more, perhaps, because he's a great +deal cleverer, if not so violent. You think you're lost, but you find a +friend, a man who helps you. You give him the envelope that has the +papers in it--a sealed envelope. You've seen it, Clo! He keeps it +through the journey. At a stopping place on the way he offers to hand it +back to you, but you refuse. You feel that the thing is safer with him. +Later, in New York, he returns the envelope intact, the seals unbroken. +This friend who comes to the rescue is the soul of honour. Never since +that moment has the envelope been out of your own keeping. Yet it is +opened to-day for the first time, and the papers that were in it are +gone, changed for stationery of that train, the 'Santa Fe Limited.' How +can this have been done? Who did it?" + +"The other man must have done it, the one who followed you on to the +train." + +"But he was never near Rog ... never near the man who ... oh, I might as +well tell you right out that it was Roger who kept the envelope for me. +I'll tell you the name of the other man, too. It's sure to slip out! His +name is Justin O'Reilly." + +"O'Reilly?" Clo echoed. "How dare the brute have a name like mine?" + +"Why, so it is like," said Beverley. "But there's an 'O,' and he spells +it differently." + +"Beast! He'd better, or I'd have to change," snapped Clo. "Well, +whatever his name is, I believe he must have stolen your papers. Can you +go back, and live over again every step of the way?" + +Beverley shut her eyes, and began to think aloud. "The morning after we +started Roger mentioned meeting an acquaintance ... a man named +O'Reilly. He didn't dream the name meant anything to me. They exchanged +only a few words when Roger passed O'Reilly's table at breakfast time. +Nothing could have happened then, I know. Afterward, I never heard of +their meeting again through the whole journey. I should have heard, if +they had, I think. Roger was with me a good deal. At Chicago.--Let me +see!... + +"I'm calling it back to my mind. Roger helped me out of the train. +O'Reilly was out already. He stood on the platform, looking for +someone--or so it seemed. We went quite close to him, but not close +enough for even the smartest pickpocket in America to steal the envelope +from Roger." + +"Where was the envelope then?" the girl wanted to know. + +"In an inside breast pocket of Roger's coat; not an overcoat. It was +September. The weather was hot." + +"Wouldn't it be easy for any one looking for the envelope to see that +Mr. Sands had something thick and long in an inside breast pocket, and +suspect what it was?" + +"Any one might suspect. No one could be sure. It would have shown more +plainly if Roger had worn his coat buttoned. He didn't, on purpose." + +"Still, his coat not being buttoned would make it easier to steal the +envelope, if somebody very clever got a chance to try." + +"Perhaps. But O'Reilly could never have done such a thing. It would take +a trained thief." + +"Can people send off telegrams from those Limited trains?" Clo took up +her catechism again. + +"Yes, of course they can." + +"Would there have been time for this O'Reilly chap to wire Chicago, +after he followed you on board the train, and have a man meet him?" + +"Yes, plenty of time." + +"Well, what if he wired to some detective people, and told them to send +him the 'smartest pickpocket in America'?" + +"But ... the police couldn't ... wouldn't ... do such a thing!" + +"I don't mean the real police," Clo explained. "Haven't you often read +books about private detectives? I have. They might get reformed thieves +to work for them. Can you remember what O'Reilly did next, after you +both passed him on the platform?" + +"No. I didn't look back." + +"You don't know, then, whether the person he seemed to expect ever +turned up?" + +Beverley shook her head. "Roger and I went straight ahead to a newsstand +where _I_ expected to meet a person. Two or three minutes after we +passed O'Reilly we were mixed up in a big crowd, almost fighting our way +through...." + +"Oh, a big crowd!" Clo broke in. "A chance for that pickpocket. Suppose +he came the minute you had turned your backs on O'Reilly, and he sent +his trained thief after you, hot foot, to get that envelope?" + +"Ah, but you've forgotten something!" cried Beverley. "A thief might get +the envelope: I'll admit that. But how could he have another one exactly +like it, with the same seals, the same monogram, to put into Roger's +pocket, when he took the original?" + +"He could only have it if O'Reilly could have given it to him. Could he +have done that?" + +Suddenly Beverley began to see. A vivid idea sprang into her head, and +was imaged in her eyes. + +"You've thought of something!" Clo exclaimed. "You see how O'Reilly +might have got the seal with the monogram, and the gold wax, and an +envelope like the one you had?" + +"Oh, yes. I do see!" Beverley groaned. "He could have brought the things +from--from.... But never mind. That part's nothing to you." + +"I want only to know the part you want me to know," said Clo. + +"It isn't a question of what I want. It's a question of my sacred oath," +Beverley answered. "There was a house where I had been, to get the +envelope. O'Reilly was there, too. Someone ... no matter who! ... could +have given him all the things, so he could change envelopes if he got +the chance. Oh, child, I keep stumbling on to a path where I dare not +step." + +"We'll go back to the train," said Clo. "If O'Reilly had the gold wax +and the seal, and the right kind of envelope, he could have made his +plan, and sent his telegram, and had everything ready for the right +minute ... in the Chicago station." + +"Ye--es, he could. But it's almost impossible!" + +"It's more possible than Mr. Sands' changing the envelopes, isn't it?" + +"That is the one impossible thing. The worst remains. I have lost the +papers! Whether O'Reilly has them or someone else, I can't get them +back. Without them, I'm ruined!" + +"You shan't be!" Clo cried, twining her thin arms round her idol's +waist. "You must be saved somehow. We've got till ten o'clock to think." + +"If I were the only one, it wouldn't matter so much," Beverley said. +"But there's somebody who can be tortured as well as killed, if I have +no bribe to offer. Those papers gave me all the power I had." + +"Wouldn't money...." Clo began, but Beverley cut her short. + +"No money I could get would be of any use," she said. "A million might +be!" + +"See O'Reilly and make him give up the papers!" cried Clo. "Oh, but is +he in New York?" + +"He doesn't live in New York, but he's here now. I know, because that +man you saw, Peterson, told me. It was part of a threat he held over my +head that O'Reilly and some people connected with him should be in town +just now. I know the hotel he's staying in, the Dietz. But even if +O'Reilly would come, how could I see him without Roger knowing? It +wouldn't be possible!" + +"I'll somehow make O'Reilly come," the girl promised. "I don't know how, +yet, but I know I will, if you can get Mr. Sands out of the house." + +Beverley shuddered. "How horrid that sounds ... as if I were plotting +against him, the way women do who deceive their husbands." + +"Well, anyhow, if O'Reilly took the papers, would he still have them, do +you think?" asked Clo, with the sudden eagerness of one who catches in +desperation at a new idea. + +"It's just possible. I can see a reason why he might have been asked to +keep them," Beverley answered. + +"If that's so, would he put them in a bank, or a safe somewhere, or +would he bring them to New York?" + +"There might be a special motive for him to bring them to New York ... I +think there would be a motive." + +"Well, it seems to me, the sort of man I imagined he is, would be too +smart to have such things on him if he came to your house, and didn't +mean to give 'em back to you. It would be tempting Providence, so to +speak!" + +"If I were the kind of woman he thinks I am, he'd not expect me to stop +short of murder to get those papers," and Beverley laughed a bitter +little laugh. + +"Good! If he comes to you and leaves the papers at his hotel, a certain +thing will happen, but it's safer for you not to know--till afterward." + + + + +IX + +THE BLUFF THAT FAILED + + +"You must tell me!" Beverley insisted. "Tell me at once!" + +"While Mr. O'Reilly is here with you, Miss Riley without the 'O', will +be at his hotel, in his room, helping herself to his--I mean +your--papers." + +"My child, you're mad!" Beverley gasped. + +"Not so mad as _he_'ll be when he finds out," crowed the girl. "Hurray! +The whole business is settling itself in my head. The one trouble is Mr. +Sands. The rest will be all right. Think what to do about him, Angel; +think hard!" + +Beverley thought until her brain whirled. + +"I might suggest Roger's dining at his club," she said. "But how I +should hate to do that! He's vexed already. He has a right to be! This +afternoon he gave me a wonderful present, a rope of pearls that belonged +to a Queen. It must have cost a quarter of a million! I hardly stopped +to thank him, I was in such frantic haste to get the envelope to you. +The rope caught in the key of a drawer; the string broke, and a lot of +pearls ran all over the carpet. I didn't wait to pick them up. I ran +down to you, and I was gone so long Roger went to my room to look for +me. I came back and found him picking up pearls. I felt my excuses did +more harm than good. Roger pretended that he had an engagement. I saw by +his face he wanted to walk off his anger in the fresh air. If he does +walk it off--if he comes back ready to make up, and I send him away +again, perhaps that will finish it! Things may never be the same between +us any more!" + +"He was angry because you didn't seem to care enough for his present," +said Clo. "But if you can get him out of the house for an hour or so, +and at the same time prove that you adore the pearls; how does that plan +strike you?" + +"How could I do both?" + +"Beg him to go fetch a pearl-stringer, and bring her back here himself, +to-night. Say you can't rest or sleep till the pearls are restrung." + +"You forget it's Sunday, and----" + +"I don't forget. But I know a pearl-stringer. She isn't just any old +pearl-stringer, who might thread on a wax bead here and there, and keep +a pearl or two up her sleeve. She's the best pearl-stringer in New York. +The big jewellers and lots of swell society women have her. It's queer +the way I came to know her, but it makes it good for us. We were +crossing a street, she and I. I didn't know the woman from Adam--Eve, I +mean. But it was slippery, and she missed her footing. I dragged her +back, just in time, and held her up. She's a little woman, no bigger +than me, or I couldn't have done it. But I got her on the sidewalk +again, and she was grateful. She's Irish, too, and she invited me to go +and see her the next Sunday. It's out at Yonkers, where she lives, in a +nice little house she's bought. I went there once. She said if she could +do some favour for me, she'd love to. But it's no favour I'll be asking, +except for her to come out on a Sunday evening. So the only thing is to +fetch her. Do you think Mr. Sands will go?" + +"It depends upon how he feels when he comes in," said Beverley. "But +Sister Lake would never let you out again." + +"I shan't ask her. I'll get up and dress while you see if Mr. Sands is +back. If I hear from you that all's well, I'll slip out before Sister +comes." + +"Clo, you're wonderful!" Beverley exclaimed. "How can I thank you +enough?" + +"Thanks from you to me! That's good! Just wait, Angel, anyhow, till I've +done something. Oh, I forgot to give you the pearl-stringer's address. +It's Miss Blackburne, 27 Elm Street, Yonkers. And tell Mr. Sands to +mention my name. It might make a difference. She doesn't like leaving +her mother in the evenings, but she'd do it for me." + +Beverley was gone for fifteen minutes. When she flew in again she was +surprised to see Clo in bed as before. But hardly was the door closed +when the girl threw back the coverlet, to show that she was fully +dressed. + +"I was afraid Sister might pop in--by an evil chance," she explained. +"I've only to put on my hat. Well, is it all right?" + +"Roger will go," said Beverley. "He's 'phoning now for his car. I'm +putting off dinner till half-past eight so he can have plenty of time to +get home and change. He didn't make any difficulty when I told him about +the pearl-stringer and wanting her at once. He agreed with me that it +would be best to do such an errand himself, if it were to be done. And +he was very kind. But his manner was different. I'm frightened." + +"Don't be," said Clo. She was up now, had pinned on the pretty white +hat, and was fastening her smart little cape. "I'll go first to the +Westmorland and see our man; he said he'd be in, waiting till ten. I'll +tell him things are in train, but he must give you till midnight, if +necessary. From there perhaps I can 'phone the Dietz Hotel. It wouldn't +be safe here. By that time O'Reilly ought to be in his room dressing for +dinner. He'll see me, I'm sure, and the rest will arrange itself. Now, +I'm off before Mr. Sands' automobile comes, or Sister Lake. If she finds +the door shut and all quiet she'll think I'm asleep. Go back to your +husband, Angel, and I'll slip away on my little jaunt." + +"I've brought money for you," said Beverley. "Take this purse. There's +change for taxis and lots of bills besides--fifty or sixty dollars." + +Two minutes later Clo was in the street. The first thing that happened +to her was a small piece of luck. She had been dreading the walk to a +taxi-stand, when she saw a car about to drive away from a house near by. +It was a public vehicle. Clo hailed the chauffeur and gave the +Westmorland as her destination. + +"Mr. Peterson" was in, according to promise. + +"You again, is it? I looked for Mrs. Sands," he grumbled. + +"I'm her messenger for the second time," said Clo, "and probably I shall +be for the third, when it comes to settling up. If you get what you +want, it doesn't matter who brings it, I suppose?" + +"Then you suppose wrong. My business is with a woman, not a kid! All the +same, if you've got anything for me----" + +"I haven't--yet!" Clo snapped him up. "It isn't time. But I'm on to +where the thing is, and how to get it. Only it may take till after ten +o'clock. That's what I came to say." + +"Save your breath! Ten o'clock's the time. If she doesn't want me to go +back on my bargain she'd better not go back on hers." + +He looked more than ever like a ferret, the girl thought. + +"Mrs. Sands made no bargain as to time," she said. "And talking of time, +what about the time _you've_ done?" + +Peterson gave a cackling laugh. "What's the female for 'Smart Aleck'?" +he sneered. "Guessed by my complexion, did yuh? Well, I don't need to +make no secret of it. My gardeens wished me good-bye and Lord bless me +when the nine months they run me in for was up." + +Clo thought she could come close to guessing what the charge had been, +and it would have needed more than the word of a ferret to assure her of +his "innocence." The man was a born sneak-thief or pickpocket. His hands +were slim and small as a girl's. Perhaps if temptation had been put in +his way while he "waited at the newsstand" for Beverley, all those +months ago, he had been unable to resist and thus had missed his +appointment. Not that the girl much cared as to this detail; it was not +her affair. But it was odd, almost "creepy," how the links were being +joined together in the chain of evidence against O'Reilly, the man who +had followed Angel into the Limited--the man against whom Clo had +presently to try her wits. What concerned her most was that her first +attempt at bluff had failed. Something in Peterson's manner forced her +to believe that he had indeed served out his full sentence, and for the +moment had nothing to fear from the police. Clodagh hid her +disappointment with a little swagger. + +"It suits us just as well as you, to finish up at ten o'clock and get it +over," she said. "If we can, we will. If we can't, you'll have to wait. +The way things are, you have to be in with us, you see, not against us." + +"Oh, do I? I ain't so sure!" he flung back. "I ain't sure my fine +madam's not in the game t'other way round--and her husband, too. I know +now that she and Roger Sands travelled in the same train from where she +started. Blowed if I see why she'd do it, but it might be they fixed a +frame-up between them. I can see why it would suit Sands, if it wouldn't +her, and a man's stronger than a woman. Sands was working for John Heron +at the time. That means a lot." + +"It doesn't mean that Mrs. Sands would be disloyal to her word. I know +she's true as steel," Clo insisted. She spoke crisply, but her thoughts +wandered. They had caught at the name of John Heron; Beverley had never +mentioned it. The girl had no means of guessing how it might bear upon +the case now in her small, determined hands. She did not see how, or +where, she could have heard it before, yet it did not sound strange to +her. The feeling she had on hearing it puzzled and even thrilled her +vaguely. It was as if the name, "John Heron," had been whispered into +her ear in a dream--a dream not forgotten, but buried under other things +in her brain. The girl was suddenly alert. There was only one fact which +she grasped with straining certainty. In that buried dream there were +other sounds connected with the whispered name: sounds of sobbing, as of +someone crying in the dark. + +"Anyhow," Peterson went on, "there was a frame-up, and those that was in +it has got to pay me for what I went through. That's partly why I'm here +in Noo York. If I don't have those papers by ten I'll show up at the +Sands flat and ask for the missis." + +"You wouldn't find Mr. Sands at home," the girl cut in. "He's out. When +he comes back he's likely to go away again at once." + +"Aw, he is, is he?" echoed Peterson. His personality waked up +secretively, like that of some weak, night animal hiding in a wood. Clo +eyed him, striving to make him out. + +"Better go home, kiddy," he advised. His tone was good-natured. "Shall I +see you back to where you live, or----" + +"I have another errand to do," the girl announced with dignity. She had +meant to telephone from the Westmorland to the Dietz, and learn if +Justin O'Reilly was in; but now she determined not to do so. Better +waste a little time rather than Peterson should hear her inquiring for +O'Reilly. Instead of waiting to telephone, she walked to the door and +asked a half-baked youth in hotel livery to call her a taxi. + +"If ferret-face tries to follow I'll lead him a dance!" she thought. But +ferret-face seemed to read her mind, and be willing to relieve it. + +"So long!" he said. "I've got a job o' work, too. It will take me till +about ten. After that I shall be lookin' for a call from you or her +ladyship." + +He turned his back and sauntered to the elevator. Before the taxi had +arrived he had been shot up to regions above. + +"So that's all right!" Clo muttered to herself, spinning toward the +Dietz. Yet, as she said the words, she wondered if it _was_ all right. +Why had Peterson's whole personality made a kind of "lightning change" +on hearing that Sands (whom he expressed a wish to see) would not be at +home that night? Ought she to 'phone to Beverley and put her on guard? +Yes, she would telephone from the Dietz, while waiting to see O'Reilly. +It would be safe, because Roger by this time should be far away. + + + + +X + +THE BLUFF THAT WON + + +Justin O'Reilly had a modest suite in the magnificent Dietz. It adjoined +the luxurious suite of Mr. and Mrs. John Heron, and consisted of a small +sitting-room, a bedroom, and bath. He was tying his necktie when the +telephone bell rang. He grabbed the receiver as if it were a snake that +had to be throttled, and gave it a grudging "Hello!" + +"A lady to see you," a voice answered. + +"She wasn't told I'm in, I hope? A nice thing for a well-regulated hotel +if----" + +"No, but she says it's important. She's Miss O'Reilly." + +Miss O'Reilly! The man of that name was perplexed. The only Miss +O'Reilly who, as far as he knew, could possibly call on him, was the +last woman he would have expected to do so. He had come to New York +largely in the hope of seeing her. She had refused to see him. + +"Tell her I'll be down in three minutes," he replied. + +"She particularly doesn't want you to come down. She says she has some +private news for you, and asks if you'll see her in your own +sitting-room." + +"All right," he tried to answer calmly. "Have the lady shown up." + +He rushed back into his bedroom to wrestle once more with the tie. He +must be ready to receive Miss O'Reilly at the door, and his waistcoat +and coat were yet to put on. But it could be managed. The suite was on +the fifteenth floor, and a full minute's walk from the lift for an old +person like Miss O'Reilly. Bungling everything in his haste, he tried to +think what it might mean. It looked as if she must have changed her +mind, and be ready to sell him her house, the dear old house on which he +had set his heart. Perhaps she would demand a higher price than he had +offered. Well, he must pay it somehow. Heron would lend him the +money--but no, there were reasons why O'Reilly didn't wish to accept +favours from Heron, often as they had been pressed upon him. As he +slipped into his coat, he heard the expected rap at his sitting-room +door, and hurried to open it. A page-boy, acting as guide, had run ahead +of the lady, to knock. + +"Miss O'Reilly to see Mr. O'Reilly," he announced, with Irish relish of +the Irish name. Then he erased himself. O'Reilly stood on the threshold, +waiting for the right lady to appear, and meanwhile dodged back from the +wrong one, a small, slim flapper in white, who for some reason had +paused before his door. She stood quite still, and stared up at him +unwinkingly, as a child stares. + +"I beg your pardon," O'Reilly said, wanting to laugh. "May I pass? I +must look for a lady who----" + +"I'm the lady," the creature in white intervened. "That is, I am if you +are Mr. O'Reilly." + +"O'Reilly's my name," he admitted. "But I was expecting--or--perhaps my +cousin sent you?" + +"Perhaps I am your cousin," suggested the girl who (Justin saw, now that +he looked her deliberately in the face) had the biggest, blackest eyes, +and the whitest skin he had ever seen. She had, also, red hair under a +fetching hat. Although the child was no beauty, she had an amusing, +elfin air. + +"Delighted, I'm sure," he felt obliged to answer. "I thought I had only +one cousin in the world, Theresa O'Reilly, of Gramercy Park. But----" + +"It sounds like the chorus of a song; 'Theresa O'Reilly, of Gramercy +Park,'" Clo was unable to resist remarking, with her strongest brogue. +"Will you please ask me in?" she said. "My errand's very pressing." + +Mechanically the man stepped aside and let her walk into the room. He +began to suspect that he had been "spoofed." He did not invite the young +person to be seated, but looked at her expectantly. Her first move was +to shut the door. She did not speak. + +"May I know your name?" he inquired, as they faced each other. + +"The same as yours, but for a letter or two," said Clo, marking time. +"That's why I may be a cousin; one never knows. I didn't come to talk +about the family tree, though, Mr. O'Reilly. I came to beg--not for +money, so don't be frightened." + +"I'm not conscious of fear," laughed O'Reilly. He couldn't help +laughing. He didn't believe the girl's name was the "same as his." "If +I'm not afraid, I am curious," he confessed. "What are you going to beg +for, if not money? Is this a message from my cousin----?" + +Clo ceased suddenly to be impish. She had got into the enemy's fastness +by her impishness, but she could go no further on that line. This man, +being the exact opposite of the type expected, upset her plan. A big +danger was that she might like this O'Reilly instead of hating him, he +was so pleasant and gallant-looking, more a protector than a persecutor +of women. She might hesitate to cheat or trick him in whatever way came +handy, and thus fail the Angel on top of all her boasts. In her hot +little heart Clo prayed for the wisdom of the serpent, and as her elfin +face took on anxious lines, she became more interesting to O'Reilly. Her +white face looked pinched and desperate. "If I were Marat, and she +Charlotte Corday," was the thought that jumped into his head, "she would +stab me." + +"It's a good thing for me you have a cousin, or maybe you wouldn't have +let me in. I know now why God gave me the name of Riley. I guess he'll +forgive me for borrowing the 'O.' I was obliged to get to you somehow. +That was the one way I could think of." + +"It was a pretty smart way," O'Reilly flattered her. "But you haven't +told me----" + +"I will. Only--I think I'll have to sit down. I feel rather--queer----" + +"Good lord! You can't faint here!" + +"I won't, unless you make me, I'll promise that!" She had her cue now. + +"Sit down, for heaven's sake!" said O'Reilly, pulling up the biggest +chair in the room. Clo sank into it. Closing her eyes, she drew in a +gasping breath which made her girlish bosom heave. + +The man stood by, feeling absurdly helpless. + +"Shall I ring for brandy?" he suggested. + +"No--please!" She opened her great eyes again. "Only listen. I've come +from Mrs. Roger Sands--to beg you for those papers of hers." + +"Mrs. Roger Sands! Her papers? I know nothing of any papers belonging to +Mrs. Roger Sands," O'Reilly exclaimed. "What papers are you talking +about?" + +"The ones you hired a man to steal when the train got to Chicago." + +O'Reilly started. "Whose accusation is that?" he asked sharply. + +"Not hers; it's mine." + +"Yours! Once again, who are you? What are you in this?" + +"I'm nobody! I'm only--a lion's mouse." + +O'Reilly did not ask what it meant to be a lion's mouse. He understood. +His mind was not less quick than hers. + +"And I'm the net you hope to gnaw! Miss Mouse, your little teeth will +find me tough. I may say I'm a patent, ungnawable net. The best thing +for you is to go home as fast as you can and tell those who sent +you----" + +"I sent myself," Clo explained, with tired obstinacy. "I told you I had +to see you somehow. Oh, Mr. O'Reilly, you don't look the sort of cruel +pig I thought you would be. If you dreamed what Mrs. Sands is going +through you'd give her back the papers. Don't pretend not to know what I +mean." + +"I won't pretend anything," O'Reilly said. "I do know what you mean, and +I got the documents (which were not the property of Mrs. Sands) more or +less as you think I got them. But no mouse, no mastodon could induce me +to hand them over to your friend." + +Clo's eyes travelled over his person. He looked slim and soldierly in +his well-made evening clothes. There could be nothing thicker than a +watch, and that a thin one, in his pockets. + +"If you would see Mrs. Sands, maybe you'd change your mind," she +pleaded, in her creamiest Irish voice. "Take me back to her, and take +the papers along. Then, if you----" + +"I can't do either," was O'Reilly's ultimatum. "I'll take you downstairs +and put you in your car if you've got one, or a taxi if you haven't. +But----" + +"You'll have to take me home," said Clo. "I won't try to start without +you. I've gone through enough. I'll just let myself collapse. I promised +not to faint unless you made me. Now you are making me." + +"You deserve to be thrown out of the window!" + +"I have been, once," the pale girl announced. "It was four storeys up, +and all my ribs were smashed. This is my first day out of bed. I thought +I could manage it, if you were kind. I'd gladly die for Mrs. Sands. And +if I do----" + +"Brace up!" O'Reilly cried. "I'll take you home. I know where the house +is. I passed it this afternoon. There was a man who----But no matter. +Have you got a car below?" + +Clo was almost past answering; almost, not quite. But weakness was her +"cue," as well as the line of least resistance. Having now an incentive +to let herself go rather than "brace up" as O'Reilly urged, she enjoyed +collapsing. Yet something within was on guard, and knew that O'Reilly +had to be watched. + +He dashed to the telephone and ordered a taxi. Then he returned to the +girl in the chair. Her eyes were half shut, a rim of white showing +between the lashes. The man could not help believing the queer story she +had gasped out, about the fall, and the broken ribs, and this being the +first day she had left her bed. That would account for her thinness and +paleness. He touched her hand, which hung over the arm of the chair. +There was no glove on it, and the pathetically small thing was icy cold. + +"She's fainted, fast enough," he growled. Clo heard the words dimly, as +though she had cotton wool in her ears. Her duty was to trick the man, +but she didn't like doing that duty. + +O'Reilly gently laid down the tiny paw he had taken in his. It was limp +as the hand of a dead girl. Clo would have felt less compunction if he +had dropped it roughly. He took a few brisk steps, as though he had come +to some decision. She forced herself back from the brink of +unconsciousness to realize that he was going toward the door--not the +outer door, through which she had entered, but another. He opened this, +and Clo saw that beyond was a bedroom. Quickly he went to a table where +stood a tall glass jug filled with crushed ice and water. His back was +turned to the girl as he began pouring the jug's contents into a +tumbler, but suddenly, as if on a strong impulse, he turned. Clo did not +even quiver. Something told her that the thing she had prayed for was +about to happen. + + + + +XI + +O'REILLY'S WAISTCOAT POCKET + + +O'Reilly's first look into the sitting room was not for the girl. +Involuntarily, it seemed, he sent a lightning glance to the left, to +that side of the room farthest from the big chair where she sat. Clo's +desperate need to know what was in his head inspired her with +clairvoyance. Consciousness lit her brain once more. She was sure that +she had read his thoughts. He feared that after all she was fooling him. +He was saying in his mind: "What if she meant me to go and fetch this +water while she looks for what she wants to find?" + +Now Clo was certain at last, not only of his having the papers, but that +they were in the room, somewhere on that left side, where his glance had +flashed. It was hard to keep still, without the flicker of an eyelash; +but she believed, as O'Reilly came back to her, that she had stood the +test of his stare. + +He moistened his handkerchief, and gingerly dabbed the girl's forehead. +It was a relief to "come to," to be able to start, and draw a long +breath. + +"There! You're better, aren't you?" he asked. + +"Yes," she breathed. "I should like to go home, but I'm afraid----" + +"Don't be. I'm going with you," he said. "By this time a taxi's waiting +for us. Do you think you can walk if I give you my arm?" + +"I'll try," Clo answered, gratefully. + +No pretence of weakness was needed. She felt like a rag. O'Reilly took +her by the hand, and with an arm round the slim waist raised the girl to +her feet. Once up, she swayed as if she might fall, but he held her +firmly. "Lean against me," he said, in a kind voice. + +She had never before been so near to a man in her life. "You're very +good to me," she whispered. "I should like you, please, to remember that +I thank you." + +"I'm sorry I said you deserved to be thrown out of the window," O'Reilly +absolved himself. "Whatever else you may be, you're a good plucked one. +Now, here we are at the door. Are you sure you can walk to the elevator? +Hang on to my arm." + +She hung on to it. + +They reached the lift, which came to them in a few seconds, unoccupied +save for the youth who ran it. Clodagh kept up bravely until she was +seated in the taxi, and could have kept up until the end without too +great an effort, for her collapse had made her feel rested. It was not, +however, the girl's metier to "keep up." The task was but half +accomplished. The hardest part was to come. + +She knew--or thought she knew--that O'Reilly had the papers, that they +were in New York; not only in New York, but in his private sitting room +at the Dietz Hotel. They were in some hiding-place there; and for an +instant he had feared her knowledge of its existence. He had expected +her to try, while his back was turned, to steal its contents. Clo's +nimble brain, deducing all this from what had happened, deduced +something else as well. The man would have had no fear if the secret +were impossible for an outsider to learn. It could not be impossible. It +couldn't even be difficult, if she might have solved the puzzle while +his back was turned. For her, O'Reilly's uneasiness was a hopeful sign. +Somewhere on the window side of his private parlour at the Dietz the +papers which Angel needed were hidden. Each second during the girl's +slow progress to the lift, her descent, and her short walk to the taxi, +was spent in sorting out these deductions. + +Those big black eyes of Clodagh Riley's had not been given her in vain. +One swift glance during the cold-water treatment had shown her many +details useful to remember. On one side of the window was a desk. In the +desk was a drawer, and the key thereof was in the keyhole. It seemed +improbable that secret papers should be kept in such a place, but +circumstances might have forced O'Reilly to leave them there. + +On the other side of the window was a kind of buffet, with glass doors +and shelves and a closed cupboard, but Clo had less hope of this than of +the desk. There might be a less obvious hiding hole than either, perhaps +a sliding panel in the wall. There must in any case be a key, and that +key must be on the person of O'Reilly. + +She would have to use all her wits to get it while they were together in +the taxi! And there was the key of the suite to get also; but that would +be easier. She had seen O'Reilly take the big key from a table, as they +went by, slipping it into the pocket of his dinner jacket. Forced to +support his half-fainting guest, he had not put on an outer coat, so the +key was within reach of clever and determined fingers. Clodagh's were +determined, and--she hoped--clever. + +With this design burning in her head and tingling in her hands, she +decided to faint again as they started for home, and keep O'Reilly +occupied every inch of the way. + +"I'm afraid--I'm not so strong--after all----" she sighed, as the taxi +door shut, and proceeded to "flop" like a large rag doll. Her head fell +on the man's breast, and rolled across to his left arm, her hat askew. + +"I'm very ill," she moaned. "Something hurts so! My hat-pin----" And her +voice trailed into silence. + +"Poor child!" the man exclaimed, completely taken in at last. The +hat-pin was sticking in very deep! Not that she minded a little pain. +But the great thing was to keep O'Reilly's hands busy. + +Clumsily, obstinately, he fumbled among the meshes of ostrich plume +wound around her hat. The head of the pin eluding him there, he tried +beneath the brim, his fingers tangling in thick waves of hair. They were +soft waves, softer and silkier than the ostrich plume. No man with blood +in his veins could have touched them without a thrill. The girl on his +breast, her face on his arm, one hand holding her up, another caught in +her hair, O'Reilly was conscious of electric shocks. + +His hands and attention thus engaged, Clo got the chance she'd waited +for. Delicately, stealthily, like the "mouse" she called herself, she +extracted the door key from O'Reilly's pocket. So far, so good. But the +next deed would try her mettle. Lightly as a flitting shadow the small +fingers moved over the man's waistcoat, from the belt line to the +breast. She could feel his heart thump, and almost started, but +controlled herself. + +Clo had noticed that men often wore a short chain or ribbon, attached to +a watch, and hanging from the waistcoat pocket with a seal, a society +badge or a lucky souvenir. O'Reilly wore no ornament of that sort; but +there was a watch, a thin watch which she could feel through the cloth, +and some flat object with it. If she could slip a finger into that +pocket without his knowing! + +But now they were in Park Avenue, not far from the imposing apartment +house at the corner, where Mr. and Mrs. Sands lived. Clo availed herself +of a slight bump, and showed signs of sliding off the seat. O'Reilly, +who had just extracted the hat-pin and stuck it into his coat, steadied +her with an effort. Fortunately there was no need to look out and stop +the chauffeur. That afternoon O'Reilly had passed the building, informed +by Count Lovoresco who lived there, and had looked up with a certain +curiosity. He remembered the number, and in leaving the Dietz had been +able to give the address. + +The taxi stopped, and O'Reilly prepared to carry the fainting girl into +the house. She would be a light load. As he got out of the taxi with Clo +in his arms a man came forward. + +"Won't you let me help you, sir?" he civilly inquired. + +"You may run ahead," said O'Reilly. "I can manage the young lady +myself." + +The man who had offered his services disappeared into the house, and +found the porter, a substantial person in livery. Clo conveniently +revived when placed on the seat of the lift. O'Reilly sat by her side, +supporting the limp body, her hat in his hand, while the porter shot the +elevator up to the Sands' floor. + +"Lord a'mighty!" the old fellow exclaimed, "if this ain't the poor child +that's been an invalid all these weeks! Mrs. Sands will be in a way! +Must be near eight weeks since this little gal was brought in on a +stretcher, lookin' like dead. She ought to be in bed." + +"Somebody should have looked after her," said O'Reilly. + +"That's it, sir. Her nurse is out, gaddin'." + +"Brute!" Clo heard O'Reilly mutter. And leaning comfortably against his +shoulder she felt wicked, treacherous, because she had more than once +applied the same epithet to him. Whatever happened, never would she do +that again! + +The elevator stopped. The porter touched the electric bell at the Sands' +door, and almost instantly a manservant appeared. His cry of surprise +brought Mrs. Sands herself out from a room at the end of the hall. The +porter tried to explain everything; failed; broke off to question +O'Reilly; O'Reilly answered; Beverley exclaimed; and among them, all was +confusion. Clo, looking through half-shut eyes over her bearer's +shoulder, saw a shadow flit between the portieres. Had some one come in? +If so, who could it be? Or was it only the shadow of a blowing curtain +she had seen? The question did not strike her as important just then, +for if any one had passed it was doubtless a servant or, at worst, +Sister Lake. Besides, Clo had much to think of; how to come back to +consciousness quickly without rousing suspicion, and, when officially +alive again, how to escape for the next errand. + +The rush of air and babble of excited voices gave her an excuse to gasp, +and stammer out a conventional "Where am I?" + +"We'll get you to your room, dear," said Beverley; and Clo wondered if +her acting had deceived Angel. "The butler can----" + +"No, thanks, I'll manage her by myself," O'Reilly broke in and carried +the white bundle along the hall. + +"This is her room," Mrs. Sands explained to him. "If you will put her on +the bed...." + +"No--please! Take me on into the next room, Sister Lake's room. I must +be there. I'll tell you why presently," the girl pleaded. + +Beverley threw open the door between the two rooms, hurried ahead, and +turned on a light. + +"Now, lay me on this bed," Clo commanded. + +Having obeyed, O'Reilly stood as if awaiting further orders. Clo glanced +from him imploringly to Mrs. Sands. "I've gone through such a lot!" she +moaned. "I've suffered so! I felt I could never get home alive. Please, +Mr. O'Reilly--you've been kind--don't let it all be for nothing!" + +"What do you want of me?" he stiffly inquired. + +"Only for you to talk to Mrs. Sands. In that next room--my room. Nobody +will disturb you. If the nurse comes back, she'll come into her own room +first. That's why I asked you to bring me to it. I couldn't persuade you +to give me the papers. Perhaps even Mrs. Sands can't persuade you. But I +beg, I pray you, to give her the chance. Listen to what she has to say." + +"Very well," he answered, grudgingly. "I'll do what you ask. But I'll do +it for your sake." + +Beverley had remained on the threshold of the next room. Now she +retreated into it. O'Reilly followed; but at the door he turned. +"Good-bye," he said to Clo. + +"Good-bye," she echoed. "And thank you again--for everything." + +She had more to thank him for than he knew--the contents of her tightly +clutched hand. + + + + +XII + +THE HORIZONTAL PANEL + + +Following Mrs. Sands, O'Reilly left the door between the two rooms open; +but Beverley stepped quickly back and closed it. + +"She's grand, the darling!" thought Clo. "Trust her to forget nothing. +Her shutting that door proves how she counts on me." + +The girl was deadly tired, and her head ached, yet she struggled up as +the door clicked. O'Reilly had brought in her hat and dropped it on a +table. There was no hat-pin, but Clo crushed the soft toque down over +her masses of red hair, and hoped she was not untidy enough to be +conspicuous. Unsteadily she tottered to another door--the door that led +into the corridor. This faced a narrower passage to the kitchen and +domestic offices of the flat. Clo would have to take that way because, +if she ventured into the lift and showed herself in the hall below, the +porter might take alarm. He might fear that Mrs. Sands' protegee was +trying to escape for some sly purpose of her own, and refuse to let her +go till he had telephoned upstairs. + +In a quaint outside pocket of her new frock Clo had put the purse given +her by Beverley. Through her adventures she had remembered to make sure +occasionally that it had not dropped out. Now she opened the purse, +selecting two ten-dollar bills and two of five dollars. + +"That ought to do for 'em all," she said, "even if the lot are at home." +And, money in hand, she ventured to the kitchen door. Only the chef and +a woman assistant were at work. + +"I'm Clo Riley, the girl Mrs. Sands has been good to," she eagerly +explained. "I'm well again, and I have to go out. Mrs. Sands has a +visitor, and I don't like to disturb them. Will you let me down your +way?" So speaking she laid a ten-dollar bill and a five-dollar bill side +by side on a table. She made no reference to the money, nor any gesture +indicating it; nor did the others appear to see it. + +The chef escorted her in silence to the servants' elevator. There was a +button to push, and down the girl went, rejoiced at passing another +stage of her journey. Five minutes more, and she was in a taxi, tearing +back to the Dietz Hotel. + +This time she marched boldly to a lift in a long row of half a dozen. +"Fifteenth floor, please," she said, as if she owned the hotel; and was +taken up without question. "Thanks to my swell clothes!" she thought. +"Not far would I get in this place if I had on my old black!" + +Armed with O'Reilly's key Clo threaded her way through several corridors +and arrived at the door of his suite. Her fingers shook so that she +could not find the lock, and as she fumbled for it, the door of an +adjoining suite opened. The nerve-tried girl started as if she had been +shot, and dropped the key on the carpet. + +"Silly fool!" she scolded herself as she stooped to retrieve it, and to +hide her face. If only the people (she knew by the voices they were man +and woman) would pass before she had to look up! But they were in no +hurry to pass. They had paused in front of their own door, and were +talking in low tones--about her, Clo was sure! + +In a big hotel, the chances were ten to one against their knowing +O'Reilly. Raising her head, she tried to eye the pair with airy +arrogance. + +"I mustn't seem to care," she thought, and tried to wither them with a +look before again attacking the keyhole. The woman was beautiful, a +glorious, dark creature, gorgeously dressed and jewelled. But oddly it +was the man who riveted Clo's attention, the man whose eyes gave the +girl an electric shock. He was a tall, lanky, middle-aged individual, +with auburn hair and a close-cut red beard streaked with gray. He walked +with shoulders bent, and had no distinction, despite his well-cut +evening clothes. But from under a pair of beetling black brows there +flashed a light which took Clo's breath away. She didn't know what to +make of his look. It was as if she'd been struck by lightning. + +"My goodness, after all he must be a friend of O'Reilly's!" she feared. +Even that supposition wasn't enough to account for the flash. +Frightened, she slid the key into the lock, and almost falling into the +room slammed the door behind her. She did not need to lock it, for +without a key it could not be opened from the outside. + +"I can hold the fort a few minutes now, whatever happens!" + +In the corridor John Heron and his wife lingered in front of their own +door. + +"Well, if that's not the queerest thing I ever saw or heard of!" Heron +exclaimed. + +Coming out of their suite, they had caught an impressionist glimpse of a +figure in white bent over the keyhole, then the figure had stooped for +the dropped key, and mechanically they had paused in surprise. + +"I wonder if she's made a mistake in the room?" Mrs. Heron had +whispered, and Heron had returned: + +"Yes, I think that must be so. She'll find it out and go somewhere else. +O'Reilly isn't----" + +There he had stopped short when the girl raised her head to face them; +and when she presently vanished into his friend's room like a whirlwind, +he neither finished his sentence nor answered his wife. + +"What's the matter, Jack?" Mrs. Heron asked. "How odd you look!" + +("Jack" was not a nickname that suited Heron, but his wife thought it +debonair.) + +"Why don't you speak?" she persisted. + +"I was thinking," Heron said at last. + +"Thinking what we ought to do?" his wife caught him up. "Shall we knock +and ask O'Reilly if he's ready to go down with us?" + +"No. We can't do that." + +"I suppose not. But weren't you going to say it isn't like O'Reilly to +have a girl calling on him in his rooms?" + +"I don't remember what I was going to say," he snubbed her. "It doesn't +matter, anyhow. After all, why shouldn't he? What is it to us?" + +"Well, I feel queer about it," objected Dolores Heron. "The creature may +be a hotel thief?" + +"Nonsense!" fumed the man. "The girl was a child--sixteen or seventeen. +We can't mix ourselves up in such an affair. Let's mind our own +business." + +"You needn't be so cross. I haven't done anything," Dolores reproached +him. They went down together, and sat side by side on a rose-coloured +brocade sofa in the immense salon generally known as the "hall." Not one +of the ladies present was handsomer than Mrs. Heron, not one had more +beautiful jewels or a more perfect dress, and all the men openly admired +her--except her own husband. + +Upstairs the girl in question was making the most of every moment. The +queer little key attached to O'Reilly's watch couldn't belong to the +desk, still, there might be a box inside the desk which it would fit. +Clo searched everywhere and everything. At last, it seemed that nothing +was left to try, when suddenly she recalled a paragraph in a newspaper. +She had seen it in a Sunday Supplement. Why, yes, Miss Blackburne, the +pearl-stringer, had given her the paper that Sunday long ago at Yonkers, +to read on the journey home. The paragraph described the up-to-date +feature added to some important hotel. Small safes had been placed in +the walls of rooms for the benefit of guests, each key being different +in design from every other. Clo could not remember the name of the hotel +referred to. Perhaps it was this one. If not, the Dietz wasn't likely to +let a rival get ahead of it. The girl stared at the wall. Any one of +those panels might conceal a safe! There were lots of panels of +different sizes, painted a soft gray and edged with delicate white +mouldings. To test each would take hours (unless she had luck and hit on +the right one first) for there might be a spring hidden in the flowery +pattern of the moulding. But--it was to the left side of the room that +O'Reilly had flung his anxious glance. She would begin, and hoped to +end, her work on the left side. A few minutes spent in thinking out the +situation, however, might save many minutes by and by. About those +panels, for instance? Which were the most likely to hide a secret? + +A frieze or skirting-board of gray painted wood ran round the room to a +height of three feet above the pink-carpeted floor. Above this frieze, +distributed at regular intervals, were large plaster panels, two on each +side of the room, forming backgrounds for gold-framed, coloured prints; +and between these were small, narrow panels, ornamented with +conventional flower designs. Beneath and above the latter were panels +still smaller, placed horizontally, and outlined with white curlicues +and flutings. They were about four inches in height by ten inches in +length; and on the left side of the wall there were two. + +"Just the right size for nice big jewel boxes," Clo thought. "And the +lower one's just the right height to open without stretching up. If I +were putting a safe into a wall that's the place I'd choose!" + +She passed her finger round the edge of one, the white-fluted edge, +rather like the decoration of a fancy cake. Nothing happened. No spring +clicked. She tried the other with the same result, then stood +disappointed, only to return to the attack with new inspiration. + +"I bet it pulls out!" she told herself. And--oh, joy, oh triumph!--it +did pull out as she pressed her sharp little nails under the white +fluting. The whole thing came away from the wall like the loose side of +a box, having been kept in place by thin prongs of metal. Behind this +cover was a steel or iron door of practically the same dimensions as the +panel. It also was painted gray, and showed a tiny keyhole like a slit +made with a pair of sharp scissors. + +Clo deposited the cover close by on the desk, where it would be within +reach if wanted in a hurry. Then she inserted the key attached to +O'Reilly's watch. It slipped into place. It turned. It opened the small +iron door, and Clo peered into the aperture. In the receptacle lay a +pile of greenbacks held together with a paper band. There was also an +envelope, but not the envelope the girl had pictured. It was larger, +longer, wider, and thicker. It seemed to be made of coarse linen, and +instead of the dainty gold seals with the monogram there were five +official-looking red ones. Clo's heart contracted. It seemed too bad to +be true. But there was plenty of space in this envelope to contain the +other, as well as its contents. + +"I'll have to open the thing and look," Clo half decided. But if she +did, how could she make sure of what she wished to know? If the envelope +with the gold seals had been removed, she had no means of recognizing +the documents it had contained. + +She took the linen envelope from the safe, and turned it over. Upon the +other side was an address, written in a strong, peculiar hand: "Justin +O'Reilly, care of The Manager, Columbian Bank, New York City," she read. + +There was just one reason to believe that the envelope contained Mrs. +Sands' papers; Clo's own strong, instinctive conviction. + +Tentatively she pressed one of the seals. It cracked across. Another +went the same way, and as she touched the third there came a sound of +talking outside the door. "Open it for me with your pass-key, please," a +man said. It was O'Reilly's voice. + + + + +XIII + +"THERE CAN BE NO BARGAIN" + + +When Beverley Sands had shut the door between Clodagh's room and Sister +Lake's, she stood silent before Justin O'Reilly. + +"Well, Mrs. Sands," he said, "I must congratulate you." + +"On--what?" she stammered. She looked very young and humble, not at all +the proud princess who had captured Roger Sands against his will. + +O'Reilly answered, still smiling his cruel smile, "It's not too late for +congratulations on your marriage, is it? By the way, perhaps one wishes +well to the bride and congratulates the bridegroom! I mean nothing +invidious." + +"You mean to hurt me all you can!" Beverley cried. + +"I'm on the other side, Mrs. Sands." + +"Don't I know that!" she answered bitterly. "I've known since I saw you +on board the Santa Fe Limited that day last September. I expected--some +one else, not you. But I guessed in an instant why you had come." + +"I accepted the obligations of friendship," O'Reilly deigned to explain. +"And that brings us to one of the subjects for congratulation: your +friend. A wonderful young person. I congratulate you highly upon her. +She informed me that she'd gladly die for you. Judging from her looks, +she isn't far from doing so. I'm sure you must want to go to her now. +Oh, by the by, one more congratulation: the pearls." + +"How did you know?" Beverley forgot her humiliation in sheer amazement. + +"Weren't you told that Heron was trying to buy them for his wife?" +O'Reilly waived her question with another. + +"No, indeed! They were a surprise present to me this afternoon from my +husband. If I'd known that Mr. Heron...." + +"You don't expect me to believe you'd have sacrificed them to Heron, or +his wife, do you, Mrs. Sands?" O'Reilly laughed. + +"I almost think I would. I'll give the pearls up to Mrs. Heron if you'll +do as--as Clodagh Riley asked you to do. Oh, for pity's sake! I'd pay +more than the pearls for those papers. I'd pay with my life if that +would be of any use. I know it wouldn't. But the pearls--can't we +bargain with the pearls?" + +"We can't bargain at all, Mrs. Sands," O'Reilly said gravely. "I must +go. I have an engagement to dine with the Herons. I should like to hear +how my namesake is, and then I will be off." + +Beverley had expected little from an appeal to this man's pity, but the +coincidence of Heron's desire for the pearls was so strange that it +ought to mean something. It seemed terrible that such a chance should be +wasted. Could she persuade Roger to let her give up the pearls? O'Reilly +would look at the wonderful things and report upon their beauty. The +Herons might be tempted to treat with her. In any case, the scheme was +worth the trial. + +Silently she went to the door that she had closed, and peeped into +Sister Lake's room. It was no surprise to her that Clodagh should have +vanished. That was part of the plan. Her exclamation was for O'Reilly's +benefit. + +"The child's gone!" she cried. "That means she's feeling better. She +must be in my room--or in my boudoir. Will you come with me? We'll look +for her. It will be on your way out." + +O'Reilly followed into the hall. Beverley, thinking quickly, went to the +door of her own special sitting room, which adjoined her bedroom. A +backward glance told her that the man had stopped facing the vestibule +which gave exit from the flat. "Wait one moment," she said. "I'll see +where Clodagh is." As she touched the door of the boudoir she was +surprised to find it yielding before she turned the handle. This was +odd, because she remembered shutting it the last time she came out. She +had left the room only at the moment when O'Reilly brought in the +half-fainting girl; and she had been particular to close the door +because of the pearls. She had placed them on a table in the boudoir, +ready for the pearl-stringer. Not that she feared their being stolen! +Her own maid had been sent out for the afternoon. Two of the other +servants had been given a holiday. Only the butler, the cook, and his +assistant were at home, and all three had been in Roger's employ for +years. They were above suspicion, and besides, they knew nothing of the +pearls. Not a soul knew, save herself, Roger, Clo, and now O'Reilly. +Roger had started off in his car before she brought the pearls from her +bedroom into the boudoir. Who, then, had opened the door? Perhaps, after +all, Clo had not dared attempt the second adventure. Perhaps she was +still in the flat, and for some reason to be explained later, had taken +refuge in the boudoir? + +A glance, however, showed that the girl was not there. The electric +light flashed upon a room untenanted. There was the magnificent but +broken rope in its case, wound in gleaming, concentric circles, the +unstrung pearls retrieved from the floor grouped together on the purple +cushion. The door stood open between boudoir and bedroom. Beverley +thought that this had been shut also, though she was not sure. "Clo!" +she called softly. There was some slight sound, or she imagined it. +Quickly she went to the bedroom door, and peeped in, flooding the place +with light. Clo was not to be seen. Turning off the electricity again +Beverley went out to O'Reilly in the hall. + +"Come with me one moment," she said. "I've something to show you." + +O'Reilly hesitated. + +"Is your friend there? Does she wish to speak to me?" he asked. + +"Come and see," Beverley persisted. She led the way into the boudoir, +and reluctantly her companion crossed the threshold. Mrs. Sands pointed +to the pearls. "I wanted so much to show them to you. See how wonderful +they are! Mr. Heron's so proud of his wife. I could arrange some plan, +I'm sure, if--if----" + +A door slammed, and Beverley's sentence broke off with a gasp. +Mechanically she shut down the cover of the velvet case. If Roger had +come back; if, after all, he had only pretended to go for the +pearl-stringer! She dared not guess what he would think at finding +O'Reilly with her in his house. Too well she remembered the day of their +one quarrel, when he had brought up this man's name in connection with +Clo's, when he had accused her of crying it out in her sleep. + +"Mr. O'Reilly," she said, very quietly, "that may be my husband coming +home. If it is, you will have to meet him. It can't be avoided. But I +should like to speak to him first, if you will wait in this room for a +moment." + +Without giving him time to answer she ran out. Minutes passed. Justin +heard voices, women's voices. One, it seemed to him, was raised in +anger. After all, it couldn't be Sands who had come! O'Reilly grew +impatient, and fumbling for his watch he found it gone. Great Scott! +Stolen! He remembered a certain small key attached to the chain. In a +flash of enlightenment the whole plot mapped itself out before his eyes. +Furious, his impulse was to dash from the room and denounce the chief +culprit. But Beverley Sands' appeal to his chivalry stopped him like a +chain round his feet. + +Now she called his name, and he opened the door. + +"It was my friend's nurse who came in," she said. "She threatens to +leave at once. I must talk with her, try to soothe her down before my +husband comes. He hasn't arrived, after all--and may not for a long +time. But the way I felt when I thought he was here, shows me I oughtn't +to keep you. Tell me once and for all before you go, now you've seen the +pearls; is there any hope?" + +"None whatever," O'Reilly cut her short. "I'm going, Mrs. Sands. You +need have no fear of me where your husband's concerned, though I +understand now exactly why I was brought here, why I was kept till you +were afraid to keep me longer. Your little friend is as smart at picking +pockets as she is at acting. Again, I congratulate you upon her. But the +effort's going to be wasted. Good-night." + +Beverley stood still, and let him go. She had no answer to make. +Precisely what he meant by his accusation she did not understand, but +she knew that, while she detained him, Clo had indeed dared the great +adventure. For a moment Beverley thought of the pearls almost with +distaste. That they should come to her to-day, when she cared for +nothing in the world but the lost papers, was an irony of fate. She did +not return to the boudoir. She forgot the mystery of the open door, and +neglected to close it. She was nervously anxious to excuse herself to +Sister Lake. Above all, it was her duty to defend Clo. She must confess +that it was upon her errand the girl had defied authority. + +"Please don't blame the child," she pleaded. "She knew I needed +something done for me--a thing I couldn't do myself. So she made this +sacrifice. You must forgive us both." + +But Sister Lake was not to be placated. If Miss Riley were well enough +to do Mrs. Sands' errands by day and night, a nurse's services were no +longer needed. Sister Lake considered herself well paid, and would +accept no present in addition. The butler was summoned to call a taxi +and attend to sending down the small luggage. Meantime the Queen's +pearls were forgotten. + + + + +XIV + +THE STONE COPING + + +This was bad luck! Clo had not expected O'Reilly to track her down so +soon. But he was at the door. There was only that frail barrier of wood, +and the space of a few seconds between them! He had discovered the loss +of his door key, and doubtless the other loss as well. He had guessed +who was the thief, and what was the thief's motive. He had hurried home. +A moment more--just the little delay of fitting in a pass key--and he +would catch the culprit red-handed; he would deprive her of the spoils! + +Clear as a "cut in" from some moving picture, a scene rose before +Clodagh's eyes. She saw herself at grips with O'Reilly. She saw him +wrench the envelope from her hands as she resisted. She saw herself +sobbing over her failure and Angel's lost hopes. That picture mustn't +come true! The key attached to the watch-chain, she had removed from the +safe door, and had laid watch and all on a buffet. Beside them she had +placed the door key. Now, as the chambermaid chattered in the corridor, +and O'Reilly made light of his loss, Clodagh moved faster than any +figure in a moving picture. She snatched up everything on the buffet, +pushed all into the safe, softly shut the steel door, concealed it with +the panel which slipped readily into its groove, and fled into the +adjoining bedroom. + +Lights from across a court showed that the sole doors were those of a +bath and a clothes-closet. There was no way out from the bedroom. +Entrance and exit to the suite were to be had only through the sitting +room. + +"I might have known," Clo reflected. Too late she recalled that through +the nearest door had appeared the couple in evening dress. She was +caught like a mouse in a trap (poor mouse, who had meant to gnaw the +encircling net!) caught unless--unless! Her heart gave a leap as she saw +the one way out. + +The night was warm, and the window had been opened wide to let in the +blue dusk. Light from opposite windows giving on the court shone upon a +stone coping. It was broad, as copings go, broad enough for some white +roses dropped from a window above to lodge without falling farther. It +was this conspicuous splash of white on the dark stone which put into +Clo's mind the word "unless." + +The chambermaid was rattling her pass key in the lock. If the thing were +to be done, it must be done now! Yes, that stone coping ran all the way +along under O'Reilly's window as well as those opposite. It was quite +fourteen or fifteen inches in width, Clo thought, and was placed twice +as many inches below the window sill. It would be easy to step down on +to the ledge; and only a short distance away was the window of the next +room, a room in the suite occupied by the couple she had seen. That +window was open, like O'Reilly's. Clo could be sure of this, because the +lace curtains were blowing out in the draught from some other window. +They were of thick lace covered with embroidery, and if one could catch +hold of a curtain as it blew the stuff wouldn't tear. As for the stolen +envelope, it was safe in one of those odd, new-fashioned pockets of +hers. Hastily she made it more secure with a big pin, by which she +fastened it to the cloth of her dress. Thus both hands were free. But it +took courage to start! + +"Oh, I must, I must do it!" she thought, her body ice, her soul aflame. +"It's for Angel! If I don't look down, I shall be all right. And even if +I fall and smash like an egg I'll be no worse off than before she saved +me. I'll be back just where I was that day." + +Uninvited, the chambermaid had followed O'Reilly into the next room. She +was talking volubly, hoping that he'd mislaid the door key, that it +hadn't been stolen. Clo, in making her dash for the bedroom, had quietly +closed the door between, but she could hear that the two were talking. + +Anyhow, the girl tried to think, it was the first step that cost! Once +outside the bedroom window, plastered against the wall, the danger of +being caught was over. O'Reilly would search the clothes-closet, and +peer into the bath. Then he would suppose that the bird was already +flown. Never would he dream that a girl would dare what she meant to +dare. + +Oddly enough, that reflection decided Clo to act. For the moment, fear +left her free. She stepped briskly over the window sill with one foot, +and landed on the ledge. It felt solid, almost comforting; but as she +groped for it with the other foot, horror caught her again, poured +through her veins like iced water and made her heart feel a dead thing. +She tried not to think of anything except that kind curtain flapping in +the wind. She clung to the window-frame with fingers so damp that they +slipped on the stone. Holding on for dear life--yes, life was dear, now +it hung by a thread!--she edged along, her cheek scraping the wall as +she moved. One step, two, three--another would take her so far that she +must let go of the window frame. Could she reach the blowing curtain? A +few moments ago it had seemed to beckon. Now she depended on it the +white folds eluded her hand. If the wind dropped, she was lost. She +couldn't help thinking of all the things she wished not to think of. She +thought of that immense depth below her narrow perch. She didn't believe +the man or woman lived strong-minded enough to forget it! + +As she reached out with her free arm for the curtain, a light sprang up +from the room she had left. O'Reilly was there, searching for her. It +had been simple to say, while she stood on a solid floor, that he would +not look out of the window. But he might look out: he might hear her +feet shuffling along the ledge. If his head appeared now, she would +fall. + +The girl began to shake all over like a winter leaf on a high branch. +She would have to go, she thought. But the curtain was blowing very +near, so near that she ventured another step. The lace brushed her +fingers. With a last effort she grasped a fold. Courage came back. Now +she had let go of O'Reilly's window frame. She had passed on beyond hope +of return, and yet she had no firm grasp upon the curtain. Before it +could give the support a rope gives a climber, she must slowly, +patiently, draw it toward her inch by inch until she had it taut. + +"Angel, are you praying for me?" she wondered. Because she could not +pray for herself. She could only count. Dimly, she felt it odd that it +should calm her nerves to count each time her fingers closed upon the +curtain. But it did calm them. + +"Seven, eight, nine, ten." The fold of lace began to be taut. Drawing it +toward her, she started on once more on that endless journey of a few +inches. Thank heaven, the light in O'Reilly's bedroom had been switched +off. The man must have given up the chase, and gone back to the sitting +room. For the present she was safe from him. But what a queer word +"safe" was, just then. "Eleven, twelve, thirteen." Thanks to the curtain +rope, she had almost reached her goal. "Fourteen, fifteen." She had got +so far that she could let the curtain go and fling her arms over the +window sill. She threw her body upon it, and lay still for an instant, +utterly spent now the strain was over. But was it over? No, not yet. If +her feet slipped from the coping, she would have no strength for the +effort of climbing in at the window. She would hang for a minute and +then--drop. + +"The papers," she reminded herself, for a mental tonic. "They're so +nearly safe now. Brace up, Clo! A minute more and you'll be out of +trouble." + +The room beyond was, like O'Reilly's, unlighted. Thank goodness, there'd +be no squalling lady's maid to give an alarm. Clo allowed herself time +to breathe, resting on the window sill. Then she prepared to draw +herself over. Wrapping the curtain round her right hand, and clutching +the lace firmly with her left hand, she found a heavy piece of furniture +just inside the window. It seemed to be a dressing-table with a mirror +suspended between two spiral posts. Grasping one, Clo pulled the table +closer, till it refused to move. This gave a lever on which she might +depend. She clung to the curtain and post, till she could plant first +one knee, then its fellow, on the window sill. It seemed an easy thing +to do, and would have been easy had not her strength been nearly spent. +Her quivering muscles responded slowly to this last call, but they did +respond. Soon she was kneeling on the window sill. Then one foot was +over, groping for the floor. She had just found it when a key grated in +a lock, and before she could hide behind the curtains a door opened +wide. A flood of light streamed in from the corridor, and outlined her +white form against the blue background of the night. + + + + +XV + +THE NUMBER SEVENTEEN + + +To go back meant death, and the loss of Beverley's papers. Besides, she +had been seen. For once, Clo's wits refused to work. Like a frozen +flower, she remained motionless in the window. + +The figure in the doorway was that of a man. The light coming from +behind made his face a blank for her eyes, but the girl saw that he was +taller than O'Reilly and of a different build. Perhaps it was the owner +of the suite, he who had gone out with the beautiful woman. The man made +no move. He stood in the doorway as if rooted to the floor. "My God!" +Clo heard him mutter. + +"The fool takes me for a ghost," she thought. "Now's my chance, before +he plucks up courage!" + +Down came the other white shoe on the carpet with no more noise than a +rose-petal falling. Then followed a second of indecision. Should she +risk pushing the man aside, and fleeing past him into the hall? No, her +touch would break the spell. She must go on with the ghost-play, and +vanish in the dark! + +Light from outside showed her the open door of an adjoining room. Thence +came the draught which had set the curtains blowing. Clo took a few +floating steps toward the man, then dodged aside, and disappeared into +the room beyond. Softly she closed the communicating door and slid the +bolt. Almost opposite where she stood opened a cross passage leading to +a wing of the hotel. With a bound she reached it, not daring to look +behind, yet listening with the ear of the hunted for the hunter, as she +ran. Coming to a staircase the girl plunged down it two steps at a time. +On the floor below, however, she ventured to moderate her pace. This was +the dinner hour; most of the guests would be in the restaurant, or out +of the hotel for the evening; but there would be servants about. Clo +forced herself to descend sedately, flight after flight of stairs, not +daring to enter a lift. At last, when it seemed that she had come to +earth from the top of Jacob's ladder, the stairway ended. Timidly +following a passage that opened before her, she ventured into a wide, +important hall. + +There was a cloakroom in the hall. Ladies were going into it and coming +out. Clo heard music in the distance and saw a marble balustrade. This +balustrade was for her a landmark. She knew by it that she must have +reached the story above the ground floor, and that the large corridor of +the cloakroom opened on to a gallery overlooking the main hall. She had +glanced up and admired that marble balustrade when she first entered the +hotel. She had seen also a wide marble staircase leading up to the +gallery. It must be near, she thought, but it was a way of exit to +avoid. If O'Reilly were on guard below, or even if he had merely +telephoned her description to the office, she and the stolen envelope +would be promptly nabbed in the hall below. She had dared too much to be +tamely taken now. Mirrors were let into the panels of the wall, and Clo +paused before one, pretending to straighten her hat. She wanted time to +make up her mind. + +The ladies who left their wraps in this upstairs cloakroom must be +dining in private rooms on the same floor, she thought. "Out there in +the gallery their men will be waiting for them," the girl told herself. +"And maybe that's where my man is waiting for me!" + +One of these ladies, opening a gold chain bag to pull out her +handkerchief, dropped a bit of paper with a number on it--Clo's +favourite number, 17. It fluttered close to her feet; she stooped and +picked it up. Common sense told her that the numbered slip was a +cloakroom check. It might mean salvation. She walked leisurely into the +cloakroom, though her nerves were a-jerk like the strings of a +jumping-jack. "My cousin has asked me to come and fetch her wrap," she +explained to a bored attendant. "There's a draught through the dining +room. This is her check." + +The woman accepted it without a word. She presently produced a long wrap +of black chiffon, lined with blue. "Number seventeen. Here you are, +miss." So speaking, she removed the duplicate check, which had been +pinned to a frilled hood of the cloak. At sight of that hood a weight +lifted from Clo's heart. It was more ornamental than practical, but it +would be immensely useful to her. If she had been given her choice of +cloaks, she couldn't have done better. Seventeen was bringing her luck. + +"Oh, I believe I'd better leave my hat!" she said to the attendant, as +if on a second thought. Unsuspiciously the woman took it, pinned a bit +of paper to the lining, and handed the duplicate to Clo. "Nobody's got +seventeen now, so I'll give it to you again." This seemed a good omen: +seventeen for the second time! With the cloak over her arm she sauntered +out of the room. Then back she went to the foot of the stairs, where was +a quiet niche behind a big, potted palm, and close by was one of those +convenient panel mirrors. Thus refuged, Clo slipped into the wrap, and +arranged the floppy hood. It was far from becoming, for the frill fell +almost to her eyes; but it hid the tell-tale red hair, and showed little +of her face save the end of an impudent nose and the tip of a pointed +chin. The cloak, made for a taller figure than Clo's, came nearly to her +feet, and holding it together the white dress became invisible. + +"Now for it!" she thought, like a soldier who goes "over the top" to +charge the enemy. Head down, hood flapping, cloak floating, she sailed +along the corridor and out into the gallery beyond. Yes, there was the +marble staircase, and below was the great, bright hall; but in this +disguise she could pass O'Reilly if he had assembled half the detectives +in New York. So she tripped down the stairs, sedate, unhurried as the +care-free girl whose cloak she had borrowed. Arrived in the hall, she +knew her way out, and could hardly subdue the triumph in her voice as +she said "Taxi, please," to an attendant porter. + +"Where shall I tell him to go, miss?" came the question as she stepped +into the cab; and for half a second she hesitated. By a clock she had +seen in the hall it was just half-past eight. There would be time to go +home, time for Angel to open the envelope and see if the contents were +right, time to tell Angel her own adventures, and time to rest before +keeping her tryst with Peterson. + +She gave the number of the house in Park Avenue where Roger Sands lived. +The door of the taxi shut with a reassuring "click." It was heavenly to +lean back against the comfortable cushions! She ought to be entirely +happy, entirely satisfied. Perhaps it was only reaction after so many +hopes and fears, this weight that seemed to press upon her heart. Yet it +was an obstinate weight. It grew heavier as the taxi brought her nearer +home. + + + + +XVI + +A QUOTATION FROM SHAKESPEARE + + + "Not easily jealous, but, being wrought, + Perplexed in the extreme." + +The words describing Othello's torment rang in Roger Sands' ears. + +The words kept time with the purring throb of the motor that sped him on +his wife's errand. Certain it was that he had not been easily jealous! + +He had married a girl with a secret to keep, and he had never questioned +her. He had made her a queen; and he was her loyal subject. She ruled +him and his kingdom. Only to-day he had given her a queen's pearls. They +were his atonement for an hour of distrust. How had she rewarded him? +Roger reviewed the afternoon, since the presentation of the pearls, and +there were details which he saw in a new light. So desperate had been +her mysterious haste that she had broken the rope of pearls, and had not +even stopped to pick up the scattered splendour. + +Roger Sands' heart had been hard toward his wife when they met. He had +settled upon a policy of silence for the present, while in +self-protection he watched developments. He agreed quietly to Beverley's +request that he should fetch the pearl-stringer, though feeling a cold, +sick certainty of her motive in making it. + +He went, as he had given his word that he would go, to 27 Elm Street, +Yonkers. Miss Blackburne herself answered his ring: and when the name of +Clo Riley was mentioned, she said at once that she would accompany Mr. +Sands. Roger was kept waiting only while Miss Blackburne took leave of +her mother, gathered together her materials, and packed a small bag; for +it was clear that, if the pearl-stringer were to finish her work in one +sitting, she would have to spend the night in Park Avenue. + +The little woman, whose face seemed almost featureless to Roger Sands, +was interested in the man as well as in the mission. The pearl-stringer +had often heard of him in various ways; and her work took her into a set +who knew, or gossiped, about his private affairs. She had listened to +women's talk concerning Mrs. Sands, "the girl from nowhere," and, though +Miss Blackburne was "good as gold," she did enjoy a little spicy +scandal. She could in future make herself quite interesting to some of +her regular clients by telling how she had worked for Mrs. Roger Sands; +and not only for their sakes, but her own, did she look forward to this +"job." + +Secretly, Ellen Blackburne planned some day to write a volume of +reminiscences, and she had a "feeling," as she sat in discreet silence +beside Roger Sands in his car, that to-night she would get material for +particularly good notes. She was conscious that his nerves were tensely +strung. "It's just as if he were sitting in a thunder cloud charged full +of electricity, with me getting some of the shocks," she told herself, +thinking of her notebook, where she would make entries when she got +home. + +It was nearly a quarter past eight when Roger's latch-key opened the +door of his apartment. Miss Blackburne was impressed, not only by the +magnificence of the hall, but by the originality of its decoration. + +Roger, having let himself and the pearl-stringer in with his latch-key, +regretted that he had done so. He did not want to see Beverley alone +just then. It would be better to have her summoned by a servant. Miss +Blackburne was too observant of tiny details not to notice that he +stepped back and pushed the electric bell outside the door, which he had +not yet closed. And when he said to the butler: "Please tell Mrs. Sands +that I have been able to bring back Miss Blackburne," the small student +of character guessed at once that he wished to avoid meeting his wife. + +The hall was large, and furnished like an extra drawing-room, therefore +it was not inhospitable that Roger should leave the pearl-stringer alone +there, with the excuse that he must dress for dinner. He was, he +explained, going to his club. As he made this announcement, however, and +before the butler could carry the message to Mrs. Sands, a dazzling +vision appeared. It could be no other, Miss Blackburne felt, than Mrs. +Sands herself; and she was right, for Beverley had dressed with unusual +speed, yet with unwonted pains, in order to be ready for Roger's return. + +The vision came into the hall before the butler had been able to deliver +the message, and his wife's arrival whilst the man was present gave +Roger an opportunity he would not miss. There was a question he wished +to ask the old servant, in Beverley's hearing, but he had not expected +the chance to come so soon. The butler retreated, stepping aside +respectfully to let Mrs. Sands pass. But before the man could efface +himself, and before greeting Beverley, Roger exclaimed, "Oh, by the by, +Johnson, has any one been here since I went out?" + +"Yes, sir," the butler replied, "one gentleman has been. He----" + +But the vision intervened. "The gentleman wasn't a visitor, Johnson," +she said, a sharp note in her voice, almost an agonized note. "You ought +to explain to Mr. Sands that he came only to bring Miss Riley home." +Then she hurried on, snatching the explanation from the servant's mouth, +though she had ordered him to make it: "The poor child came back quite +done up, nearly fainting. She had to be helped in, almost carried. The +man stayed just long enough to hear that she was better. Is it Miss +Blackburne you've been lucky enough to find, and bring back to me?" + +All this rushed out in a breath. The lovely lady in white and silver +smiled at the small person in brown pongee. But Roger Sands was not a +man easy to play with. + +"Yes, it is Miss Blackburne," he quietly answered. "What was the +gentleman's name, Johnson? Did you hear it?" + +There was a trifling pause while the servant replied. Mrs. Sands was +still faintly smiling, a mechanical smile, and her eyes were suddenly +dull as glass. + +"Yes, sir, I believe I heard the name mentioned," Johnson admitted. "I +thought it was the same as the young lady's; Riley or O'Riley. As Mrs. +Sands remarks, sir, he wasn't exactly calling, so the name wasn't +announced. It only reached my ears." + +Roger looked straight at Beverley. The gaze was a challenge. "Was it +Justin O'Reilly who came?" he inquired; and his eyes said: "if your +conscience is clean, you'll understand that I'm not trying to extract +any confession. I give you the chance to clear yourself, here and now, +that's all." + +But Beverley's face was flooded with one of her painful blushes, that +always came when she wanted them least. She realized, too late, that +Roger had enquired of Johnson because he suspected, perhaps even knew, +that O'Reilly had been in the house. + +"Yes, it was Justin O'Reilly who came and stopped about ten minutes," +she answered, trying to keep her voice as calm as Roger's. "But this +isn't very interesting to Miss Blackburne. It was good of her to give up +her Sunday evening! Shall we----" + +"Just a moment, please," Roger broke in, still in that deadly quiet +voice which, it seemed, could betray nothing to a stranger, but for +Beverley was a knife at her heart. "I must go out presently. Before +starting to dress I should like to hear the latest news about your +protegee. She looked all right, and not inclined to faint, when I saw +her tripping into the house, just before I came in from my walk some +time ago. By the by I think Mr. O'Reilly must have been with her then. +He was passing the house, I noticed." + +"I don't know anything about that," the answer came slowly. "Clo didn't +mention seeing Mr. O'Reilly at that time. She rested and went out again +later. Johnson was speaking of her _second_ return." + +Beverley knew that her husband could easily have questioned Johnson +behind her back, and then have entrapped her perhaps, through her +ignorance of what had passed. He had chosen instead, to be as frank as +he was hard; and while she suffered, Beverley thanked her husband for +cold justice. + +"I must dress now," Roger said heavily. "I am dining at my club." + +Murmuring some civility to Miss Blackburne, Sands turned away. A moment +more, and his wife heard his bedroom door shut. At the sound it seemed +that her heart must die in her breast! She felt a sensation of physical +sickness, and would have given anything not to have the pearl-stringer +on her hands. Here the woman was, however, and could not be treated with +discourtesy! + +"You will dine with me, of course, before beginning your work," Beverley +said, trying to be cordial. But Miss Blackburne smiled and shook her +head. She had had "high tea" at home with her mother, and could eat +nothing more, she replied, thanking Mrs. Sands. + +"I'll take you to my boudoir," Beverley said kindly to the little woman +in brown. "The pearls are there. You'll be surprised at their beauty." + +Miss Blackburne let her hostess lead the way. "There's a drama here, all +right!" she told herself. "Has it anything to do with the pearls? But I +shall know soon, I bet!" + +The Vision opened the door of a charming room. The light was already +switched on, and the new-comer noticed that a door stood wide open +between the boudoir and the bedroom, which, also, was lighted. Miss +Blackburne guessed that Mrs. Sands had only just finished dressing in a +hurry as her husband came into the house. Perhaps, on account of the +pearls, her maid had been released from duty. Anyhow, someone had +forgotten to turn off the lights, and ... but Mrs. Sands herself was +explaining. + +"I left the door open between my room and this while I dressed," she +said, "because of what you see on this table. I thought it might as well +be here, as anywhere else, all ready and waiting for you." + +She made a nervous gesture, and Miss Blackburne saw on the table +indicated a large oval case of purple velvet, slightly old-fashioned +looking, and adorned with a splendid gold crown. The pearl-stringer knew +something about crowns and coronets: duchesses, countesses, baronesses, +and small fry like that. But this crown was royal. She was going to get +good "copy" for her notes! + +Beverley's hand moved toward the purple case. She was in a desperate +hurry to get her business with Miss Blackburne over, and escape into the +hall again. She must try to have a word with Roger before he went, +though she dared not--literally dared not--go to his room. + +"You'll see the pearls, and----" she had begun, when her ears caught the +sound of an electric bell; a loud, insistent peal. + + + + +XVII + +THE MYSTERY OF THE BOUDOIR + + +"It's Roger," Beverley thought. "He's ringing for Johnson--perhaps to +ask more questions!" + +"I must speak to my husband," she said to Miss Blackburne. "The pearls +are in that case. There are two hundred and fifty. About thirty came +unstrung. You'll see for yourself how they ought to be graduated. I'll +be with you again in a few minutes." + +She flew to the hall, hoping to intercept Johnson before he could reach +Roger's room. But the man was not on his way there. It was the sound of +the door-bell she had heard. Johnson was in the act of admitting a girl +in a black chiffon cloak lined with blue. A large frilled hood pulled +over the wearer's eyes hid the profile from Beverley. The girl turned; +it was Clo. + +"I'll go with you to your room," Beverley said, controlling her voice +for the benefit of Johnson, and trying not to show how frantic was her +haste. It was only when she had noiselessly closed the door of the big, +bare room, that she dared let herself go. + +"What's happened?" she implored. "Why are you dressed like this? Of +course you haven't got the papers?" + +"I dressed like this to make a get-away," said Clo. "I stole the cloak. +I'll tell you everything by and by. But first, you must find out for +yourself whether I've got the papers. I've got something--something in a +thick envelope. That's all I know." + +She threw off the cloak of the girl at the Dietz, and unpinned the +pocket which held the precious package--the pocket which, thanks to the +pin, had guarded its contents through the whole series of her +adventures. + +Beverley took the large linen envelope, not even thanking Clo. Neither +noticed the omission. + +"Addressed to Justin O'Reilly!" she exclaimed. "It's the right size. But +what makes you think it may have my envelope inside?" + +"Because it was carefully hidden in a safe in the wall. I thought of +opening it to make sure. There wasn't--enough time." + +"I'll open it ... now!" said Beverley. Her words were firm, yet she +hesitated, and turning, the envelope over, stared at the five +official-looking red seals. What if it should contain legal documents +belonging to some client of O'Reilly's? + +"Tap--tap!" came at the door. + +Beverley laid the envelope on the glass table, where Clo's medicine +bottles once had stood. Over the red seals she flung her handkerchief, +lest it should be Roger at the door. + +Meanwhile, Clo had answered the knock and revealed Johnson. + +"Madam, the lady who came with Mr. Sands wishes to see you immediately; +it's very urgent," he announced. + +"Say I'll be there in a few minutes," she replied. "I can't come just +yet." + +Johnson departed. "Madam will come in a few minutes," he repeated to +Miss Blackburne, who had been anxiously awaiting him at a half-open +door. "I think," he added, "she is busy, miss." + +"In that case," suggested the pearl-stringer, "perhaps you'd better call +Mr. Sands." + +"Very well, miss, I'll do so." Johnson turned away, and Miss Blackburne +retreated to the boudoir. + +But it occurred to Clo that Roger might be summoned if Beverley delayed. + +"Something must be worrying Miss Blackburne," she said. "I wonder if +it's anything you'd like Mr. Sands to mix up in, or if you'd rather +attend to it yourself? You know, we've lots of time before ten o'clock. +If the papers are in this envelope, it's all right. If not, there's +nothing doing." + +Just why Beverley did not want Roger to go to her boudoir she hardly +knew, unless she feared that a pearl might be missing, and that Roger +would be more vexed than he was already. Whatever the motive in her +mind, she felt suddenly impelled to haste. Even with Clo she could not +leave the envelope. Wrapping it in the handkerchief to hide the address, +she hurried off with it in her hand. + +"You sent for me, Miss Blackburne?" she asked, as she threw open the +door. + +The pearl-stringer stood by the table, looking pale and strange. + +"Oh, Mrs. Sands," she exclaimed, "you told me the pearls were in their +case, but they're not. I found it empty. You must have laid them +somewhere else." + +Beverley wondered whether she had become temporarily insane, and had +hidden the pearls in a place already forgotten. But in her heart she +knew that nothing of the sort had happened. + +"No," she said, answering herself as well as Miss Blackburne, "I didn't +touch the pearls after I put them away, and brought them in here. Oh, +please don't tease me! This is too serious!" + +"Tease you!" echoed Miss Blackburne. "Why, Mrs. Sands, I wouldn't do +such a thing! I wish to goodness I'd insisted on your staying till I'd +opened the case and counted the pearls. I don't think I was ever so +foolish before! Now, maybe you'll believe that I've sto----" + +"No--no!" exclaimed Beverley, calmed by the other's distress. "Of course +I believe nothing so foolish. Even if you--what nonsense to speak of +it!--but even if you wanted the pearls, you couldn't hide them. Let me +think! Let me go back in my mind over everything that happened. I was in +the next room practically all the time when I wasn't here. The door was +open between. I could have seen any one who came in. Oh, the pearls +can't have been stolen. There's been nobody to steal them." + +"What about our little friend, Clo Riley?" Miss Blackburne asked. "Could +she possibly know anything? Mightn't she help with some suggestion? I +thought hers one of the brightest, quickest minds I ever met. Indeed, I +owe my life to its quickness." + +Beverley forgot to answer. The pearl-stringer's words had sent her +thoughts travelling along a new path. Suddenly she became aware that she +had deceived Miss Blackburne and herself. When she made that statement, +she had not reflected. Clo's return, in O'Reilly's company, now seemed +so long ago that she had not cast her mind back so far in connection +with the pearls. She had thought of what she had done since O'Reilly's +refusal of her request, and his departure. She had pictured herself as +having seen the pearls in their case since then. But she had not done +so. She had seen only the closed case, and had naturally taken it for +granted that the pearls were in it. As a matter of fact, she had not +actually seen them since she herself closed the velvet case. Could Clo +possibly have dashed into the boudoir and hidden the pearls? + +"I'll speak to Clo," she finally replied, with a dazed look after a +silence that puzzled Miss Blackburne. + +"Please stay here. I'll be back in three or four minutes, and bring Clo +with me, if she's well enough." + +Clo, denuded of the stolen cloak, had flung herself upon the bed to +rest, and call back the force of her vitality for a later effort. Her +nerves were throbbing like hot wires, and she jumped at the opening of +the door. + +"Oh, I'm glad it's you!" she sighed, at sight of Beverley. "Have you +opened the envelope?" + +"The envelope!" Beverley repeated. "Oh, Clo, I thought nothing on earth +could have put it out of my head for a second. But Miss Blackburne +called me to say the pearls have disappeared. I forgot the envelope. I +must hurry back. Did you do anything with the pearls, on your way out?" + +Clo looked aghast. "Good gracious, no!" she cried. "I went through the +kitchen, and down the servants' elevator. Oh, Mrs. Sands--Angel--you +don't think----" + +"Nonsense! You're as bad as Miss Blackburne!" Beverley cut her short. "I +thought that, for some reason, you might have hidden them. Now I know +you didn't. Clo, this is the most terrible day--except one--in my life. +I must find the pearls or Roger will never forgive me. And only a few +minutes ago they were nothing, compared with the papers!" + +Clo's wits, drowned in horror for an instant, came to the surface again. +"What if O'Reilly took the pearls for revenge!" she blurted out. "Did he +know--was he anywhere near them?" + +Beverley, who had been standing by the bed, sank down upon it, and +stared. "He did know," she said slowly. "And--and he was alone in the +room with the pearls for some minutes if I remember rightly. You see, +Sister Lake arrived. She was angry about your being out. I tried to +soothe her. It was no use. She left, bag and baggage, in injured +dignity. O'Reilly was in my boudoir. Oh, Clo, it must be he who took the +pearls!" + +The girl herself had said it: yet, when the words were repeated by other +lips than hers, it gave her a shock. O'Reilly's face rose before her +eyes. "I don't believe he did it!" she was surprised to hear her own +voice cry out aloud. + +"You suggested it yourself!" exclaimed Beverley. + +"I know," the girl confessed. "The idea popped into my head. But it +can't be true. He's not that sort, whatever else he may be!" + +"He went off furious with you, with us both," Beverley said. "It must +have been he who stole the pearls. There's a strong motive--something +for him to hold over us, and force us to give the papers back." + +"If we've got them!" cut in Clo. + +Beverley sprang up. "I'm lost in this!" she faltered. "There are too +many things against me. I can't cope with them all at once. I must go to +the boudoir and get that envelope, whatever happens." + +"What shall I do?" asked Clo. + +Beverley was already at the door, and had opened it. + +"If I don't come back to you in five minutes, it will be a sign I want +you to come to me." + +When the door had shut behind her Angel, the girl felt she would be +thankful for the five minutes' respite. She lay flat and straight as a +figure on a marble tomb, yet she could not rest for thinking of +O'Reilly. His eyes seemed to be looking into hers. By shutting them, she +could not shut him out. When she thought that the five minutes must have +passed, she slid wearily off the bed. + +"I must go to Angel," she said half aloud. But she had not got to her +feet when, without knocking, Beverley flung the door open. + +Instantly Clo guessed that some new and worse misfortune had happened. + +"This time it's the end. I give up!" Beverley panted. "The envelope has +gone with the pearls. I hadn't even opened it. I don't know what was +inside." + +"Gone! The envelope gone!" gasped the girl. "Gone--from--where?" + +"From the table in the boudoir," Beverley answered. "I laid it there +when Miss Blackburne told me about the pearls. It was there when I came +to you. Miss Blackburne hasn't left the room. She didn't even see the +envelope. I've searched everywhere for it--but it's gone." + + + + +XVIII + +DEFEAT + + +All Clo's efforts and schemings wasted! She had tricked, stolen, risked +her life, in vain. The envelope was gone. + +"You can't have looked everywhere," she insisted. "The thing must have +got tucked out of sight--unless Miss Blackburne ... but no, she's as +good as gold!" + +"I'm sure you're right about her. She is good," said Beverley. +"But ... she says nobody came into the room while she was +there.... I asked her. Otherwise I might have thought that +Rog----" The sentence broke. "I wanted to see you alone," Angel began +again, "so I came back. You've been so wonderful to-day, you've made +me depend upon you. If there were anything to do, you'd be the one +to do it. But there's nothing ... is there? I can't see any light, +can you?" + +"Let me help you to look for the envelope," said Clo. + +"Come, then," said the other, in a toneless voice, unlike her own. +Together they went to Beverley's boudoir, where there was a little +interlude of greetings between Clo and Miss Blackburne. Then, Clo was +beginning her search for the lost envelope when Roger Sands slowly +passed the half-open door. Beverley had left it ajar, not because she +wished to call him (that desire had fled with the news about the +pearls), but in order to see that he went out. She stood with her back +to the door at the moment, but on the wall directly opposite hung a long +mirror. Clo guessed, by the slight start Angel gave, that she must have +caught sight of his reflection. He turned and came back. + +"If he asks to see the pearls!" was the thought in Clo's head. Her eyes +met Beverley's and read the same terror there. + +Roger spoke to Miss Blackburne, pausing on the threshold. + +"What do you think of the baubles?" he asked with elaborate +carelessness. "Are they above the average?" + +The two girls held their breath. Would the pearl-stringer give the +situation away? + +But Miss Blackburne, true to herself, was discretion incarnate. + +"I've not seen enough of the pearls, yet, to form an opinion," she +replied, "but my impression is that they must be altogether +exceptional." + +"I'm glad your impression is good," said Roger. He turned to his wife. +"I may not be back till late. Don't sit up for me. Good-night." + +Beverley followed him into the hall. + +"Roger!" she pleaded. "You're doing me a most horrible injustice. I +can't bear it!" + +"What do you mean?" he asked. + +"You can't help knowing," she said, "It's about Justin O'Reilly. You +think I----" + +"Have I accused you of anything?" he challenged, brows raised, eyes +blank. + +"No. But----" + +"Your imagination seems to be even more lively than your conscience is +sensitive, my dear girl. What have you done, that I should accuse you?" + +"I've done nothing, Roger, that you----" + +"All right, then. Why borrow trouble? I must hurry, or I'll miss my +appointment. Good-night again. Sleep well!" + +Roger left her without a backward glance. Beverley felt that she was +caught in the folds of a vast net. + +What was it Clo had said, that day? "There was once a mouse who gnawed a +net----" Poor mouse, it had tried to-day to gnaw the net! It had gnawed +one small hole, but even before the prisoner could struggle to get free, +the hole had closed again. Still, the mouse was ready for another bout. +It was a brave, bold mouse--a subtle mouse! For some strange reason her +sole hope was in Clo. + +During her absence the girl had searched the boudoir from end to end. +Her sharp eyes had not missed a cranny big enough to hide a pin, to say +nothing of a rope of pearls or a large envelope with five red seals. +Both the pearls and the envelope must have been stolen. Were there two +thieves, or only one? + +With Roger's departure, and Beverley's return, the three women could +talk with freedom, especially after Mrs. Sands' announcement to the +butler that he would not be needed to serve dinner. + +Miss Blackburne reiterated that she knew nothing of the envelope. She +had had no thought for anything except the pearls. Their loss put her +into an embarrassing position unless Mrs. Sands intended informing Mr. +Sands and the police at once of what had happened. + +"I saw by your face you didn't want me to speak when your husband came +in," she said to Beverley, "so I hedged, and did the best I could +without lying. I realized that you would want to be the one to break the +news. But I suppose you have told him now? He'll send the police, or +some private detective, won't he, to take evidence while I'm here?" + +"I do want to get them back," Beverley answered. "But I haven't told my +husband, and we can't have the police, or even a detective. That must +seem not quite fair to you, Miss Blackburne. Whatever happens, you +shan't suffer, I promise. I believe I know who has taken the pearls. If +I'm right, it isn't exactly a theft. Perhaps if I go the right way about +it, I can get them again. What's the good of worrying my husband, when +in a day or two there may be nothing to worry about?" + +"M-m-m," muttered Miss Blackburne, "I think you're wrong, Mrs. Sands. I +have a feeling that Mr. Sands suspects." + +"That the pearls are gone? How can he?" Beverley cried. + +"I don't know, I only feel," the little woman repeated. + +As the two had talked, Clo watched Miss Blackburne's face. It was with +her as the pearl-stringer had said of herself: she "did not know--she +could only feel" that the good little woman had something on her +conscience, something that she was obliged to hide. + +Clo had by this time succeeded in clearing her mind from cobwebs. + +Suddenly a light shone like flame upon the mystery. "Peterson!" was the +name that printed itself upon the girl's brain. "If he could have got +into the flat, he could have stolen both the pearls and papers. Does +Miss Blackburne know something, and if she does, why won't she tell?" + +It occurred to Clo that, if she could have a few words with Miss +Blackburne alone, perhaps the puzzle might be solved. + +"Angel," she said, "if there's been a thief in this house, perhaps he's +here still. With two manservants, you ought----" + +Beverley waited for no more. Any straw was worth catching at. She +couldn't wait to ring for Johnson. She rushed out of the boudoir, hoping +to find the butler in the dining room. He was there. And while she +explained that something had been stolen, that the flat must be +searched, Clo got the chance she had wanted. + +"Miss Blackburne, you're my friend!" she exclaimed. "This means life or +death to me. I'm responsible for that envelope we've lost. Do, for the +love of heaven, tell me what happened in this room while Mrs. Sands went +out and left you here alone." + +The pearl-stringer remained silent. She met Clo's great, imploring eyes +without shrinking, but the girl saw that she breathed hard. + +"If you don't want me to die, tell me!" Clo implored. + +"My child, I would tell you, if I could," she stiffened herself. "But, +you see," she finished, "there's nothing to tell. So, I can't." + + + + +XIX + +THE BROWN TRUNK + + +Clo realized that there was no more to be said, since to accuse Miss +Blackburne of lying would make matters worse. When Beverley came back, +to say that the servants had been questioned, and the flat searched in +vain, the girl had made up her mind what to do next. There were two +things, one of which had better be done at once; the second, which must +be done before ten o'clock. The first was to settle with Miss +Blackburne; and get rid of her. The second thing was to keep the +appointment with Peterson. It was more important, Clo thought, to see +him than to see O'Reilly, though she expected Angel to suggest an +immediate talk with O'Reilly in person or by telephone. She hoped to +bring Beverley to her point of view. + +"Of course, I rely on you to let me clear myself if you don't find your +pearls the way you hope," Miss Blackburne reminded Beverley. "I'm sure +you'll let me know when you have news. Meanwhile, there's nothing to +stay for, is there? I might as well be with mother." + +It was arranged that she should go home in a taxi, to save the time +which must be wasted, waiting for Beverley's car. Mrs. Sands paid, of +course, and gave the pearl-stringer a present of fifty dollars, "to make +up for her trouble." + +It was not late, as time goes, but on this night of stress and ordeal, +nine-fifteen was a terrible hour. The instant Miss Blackburne was out of +the house, the two girls turned to each other, and clasped hands. + +"Thank God, she's gone!" Beverley breathed. "Now I'll call up Justin +O'Reilly, and----" + +"Wait till I tell you something I've thought of, then you can decide," +Clo cut in. "I believe that horrible creature, Peterson, may be the +thief, not O'Reilly. How he could have got into the flat, and out again, +I can't see. But he probably specializes in stunts like that! He has the +face--and the fingers--for it. I shouldn't wonder if he terrorized poor +Blacky. She's not cut out for a heroine, is she? Maybe the man was under +the table in the boudoir. Maybe he warned her that, if she gave him away +afterward, he'd do for her and all her belongings. That would scare +Blacky blue! She worships her mother. I haven't got the tangle +straightened out in my head yet. But this new idea looks good to me, so +far. If Peterson's the thief--if he's pocketed the papers and the +pearls--it seems to me he'll try and make a quick get-away. Let us jump +on him now, at the Hotel Westmorland, before he expects us, and before +bothering with O'Reilly. These pearls must be well known. Peterson can't +get rid of them, even to a fence, for any big sum. I think he'd +exchange, for money, and less important jewels that he might dare to +sell. Haven't you got something that your husband's forgotten--or won't +mind if he doesn't see you wear?" + +"Yes," Beverley answered. "I have six or seven hundred dollars by me. +There's a diamond muff-chain, too, and a tiara that Roger himself thinks +too old looking for me. He proposed to have the stones reset--but that's +months ago. He has forgotten, I'm sure, for he's given me so many other +things since. I could bargain with the chain and tiara--and perhaps a +few bracelets and rings." + +"Let me take the jewels and money in a bag to the Westmorland. I can +leave it at the desk while I do the bargaining. It's best to be on the +safe side, if you're a mouse holding up a ferret! Besides, there's a +question we've 'most lost sight of in this business, Angel. We're not +sure the right papers were in the envelope I took from O'Reilly. They +might be something else he valued." + +"Why, yes!" cried Beverley. "For a moment I counted on their being the +right ones--the ones I must give Peterson----" + +"Well, I've only to see him to make sure," Clo went on. "He may lie, but +I know I can tell by his face. Angel, waste no time on O'Reilly. There's +not one second to lose! Get your jewels together, and I'll go." + +"We'll both go," said Beverley. "Don't object; it's useless! I won't +have you go alone. You've done more than enough already. I'm a wretch to +let you slave for me, your first day out of bed! But I daren't call at +Peterson's alone, not because I'm afraid for myself, but because of +Roger. Besides, I can depend on you to keep your head." + +"Very well," Clo consented. "The first thing that occurs to me is this: +we must put on plain coats and hats. My new hat I left at the Dietz: I +had to! But you'll lend me something. And we'll not 'phone for a taxi. +Best slip away and not let the servants know we've gone. If you've a +latch-key, we may go and even get back without a soul being the wiser." + +"Come to my room and choose wraps for us both, while I collect the money +and what jewels I dare spare," Beverley said. As she spoke, she ran in +front of Clo, and opened a safe in the wall not unlike the hiding place +Clo had rifled at the Dietz. + +The girl selected two automobile coats, one of gray silk, the other of +brown, both intended to match the colours of dresses, but inconspicuous +and plain. There were toques made of the same material, with thin veils +attached. Clo took for herself the brown coat, which was shorter than +the gray, and pulled the brown toque well over her red hair. By this +time Beverley had stuffed a roll of greenbacks, a chain of platinum set +with brilliants, half a dozen sparkling rings and bracelets, and a +flexible diamond tiara, into a dark leather handbag. Clo helped her into +the long gray coat which covered her evening dress; and the two stole +out of the flat like flitting shadows. They went down in the elevator, +but the hall-porter was off duty for the night, having left a young +understudy in charge. + +The girls walked fast to the nearest taxi stand, Clo trying not to +breathe hard and so remind Angel of her weakness. As the chauffeur +slowed down in front of the Westmorland, Beverley held up her wrist +watch for Clo to see. + +"Twenty-five minutes to ten," Clo assured her confidently. "I only hope +he won't have gone out. Now, you wait for me in the taxi, Angel, while +I----" + +"No, you're to wait for me," Beverley decided. "I can do more with the +man than you, because there are things you don't know. But don't wait +here. It's too far away. I might need you in a hurry. We'll keep the +taxi, so there'll be no delay in getting off, and we'll both go into the +hotel together. You came this afternoon, so you had better ask for +Peterson. We can make up our minds what to do next when we get the +answer." + +A moment later a tall young woman in a gray motor cloak, and a small +young woman in a brown cloak, entered the hotel. The veils that covered +their close-fitting toques and fell over their faces were not thick, yet +in the electric light the gauze took on a disguising glitter. The pair +in their plain wraps, were not conspicuous figures even in a third-rate +hotel like the Westmorland, and the clerk whom they approached was not +moved to curiosity. + +"Mr. Peterson? He's in; came in over an hour ago, and mentioned that he +expected a caller; party to go right up." + +"He's expecting us, one or both," Clo cut in hastily. "What's his +number?" + +"658, top floor," said the clerk. "The elevator's just over there to the +left--see?" + +"We'll go up together," Clo whispered, "and then, if you really think +best to see the man alone, I'll hang about somewhere in the hall till +you come out and call me." + +Beverley made no reply. Already she was fathoms deep in thought. The +musty-smelling lift shot them up to the top floor; Beverley, stepping +out ahead of Clo, had the air of having forgotten her existence. The +girl's anxiety deepened. The best she could do was to guide her friend +through dimly lighted, dark-walled corridors, to the right number, 658. +Beverley had, before they left the taxi, given the money and jewels into +her companion's hand. Clo's over-strained nerves began to take their +revenge. This shabby hotel was an evil place. To her it seemed that each +closed door hid something secret and sinister. They met no one between +the elevator and Peterson's room. Involuntarily, the two paused an +instant in front of number 658 before knocking. No sound came from +within. If Peterson were in his room, apparently he was alone. Beverley +tapped--a sharp, nervous tap. + +"Come in!" cried a voice which sounded far off, as if the speaker called +from the furthest corner of the room, or from the depths of a wall +cupboard. + +"Keep near, but not too near," whispered Beverley, and opened the door. +To her surprise and Clo's there was no light in the room; yet it was not +really dark. The blind on the curtainless window opposite the door was +rolled up to the top, and let in light from the brilliantly illuminated +street six storeys below. As Beverley passed in, Clo caught a glimpse of +a man's figure comfortably seated in a high-backed armchair in front of +the window. She even recognized the mean profile of Peterson, outlined +in black against the luminous square of a window pane, and anger pricked +her that he should dare receive Mrs. Sands without rising. Then the door +shut, and Clo, obeying the order to "keep near, but not too near," took +a few steps down the corridor. Within sight of the door, but not within +hearing of voices on the other side unless they should rise to a shout, +she hovered uneasily. + +It was hateful to Clo that Angel should be alone with the ferret-faced +man behind the closed door. He might choke Beverley to death with those +sly, thievish hands of his, and the sentinel outside would not know. +"Why was he sitting there in the dark," she puzzled, "like a spider in +his web, waiting to pounce?" She could not put away the impression that +there was something more terrible even than Beverley had expected. No +one came or went. After all, she had been there only four or five +minutes, though the time seemed long. It might easily be half an hour, +Clo reminded herself, before she could hope to be called into +consultation, or invited to hand over the precious bag. She looked +wistfully toward the nearest end of the corridor. There, in front of a +window, was a big brown trunk. She would go and sit on that trunk to +rest. It was well within sight of Peterson's door. Her eyes would never +leave that door! With renewed life she could spring up as she saw it +opened by Angel. + +"Yes, I've got to the limit!" the girl said. She was so spent that her +feet seemed to have weights attached to them as she dragged herself +toward the trunk. Reaching it, she dropped, rather than sat, upon the +rounded top. No sooner had she touched the lid, however, than she +bounded up as if she had received an electric shock. It seemed that +something inside the trunk had given a leap, and that the great box had +quivered under her. At the same instant the door of number 658 was +thrown open. Beverley came out. + + + + +XX + +MURDER + + +There was something not natural in Beverley's air and manner. Normally +she had a proud, erect carriage. Now she came stumbling out of Number +658, and with drooping head, and shoulders bent, crept into the hall, +leaving the door half open behind her; but she stopped abruptly and +turned back. Clo, forgetting her own weakness, and forgetting the brown +trunk, hurried to join her friend. But Beverley seemed to be unconscious +of the girl's presence. She stood as far as possible from the door, +closed it without noise, and was walking away again when Clo's arm slid +round her waist. + +"Darling, what has he said, what has he done to you?" the girl implored. + +Beverley seized Clo by the wrist, and pulled her toward the lift. + +"Hurry!" she whispered. "We must get away as soon as we can, for Roger's +sake!" + +"But what about the papers, and the pearls?" Clo persisted. "Had +Peterson taken them? Did he give them to you?" + +"I don't know whether he had them or not. Nothing matters now, except to +get home," was the astounding answer. Clo could hardly believe that she +had heard aright. Ten--five minutes ago, nothing in the world mattered, +except the papers and the pearls. Now they had lost all their +importance! + +"You don't want them any more?" she gasped. + +"Want them?" Beverley echoed. "Yes, more than ever, I want them. But +it's too late. Don't ask me why. Only--come!" + +Clo could not argue with Angel, or oppose her, in such a mood as this. +She wished that she had taken her own way, and gone herself to "have it +out" with Peterson. She felt that nothing he could have said or done +would have forced her to give up without at least knowing whether or not +the booty were in his possession. As she kept pace with Beverley she was +screwing up her courage to one last, desperate coup. She would make it +in spite of Angel! + +They came to the elevator, but before Clo could put out her hand to +touch the electric button, Beverley drew her farther on, to the +staircase. They went down swiftly and in silence. The entrance hall of +the hotel smelt of tobacco. They descended into it behind the elevator. +A group of men surrounded the desk where they had inquired for Peterson, +and the two girls in motor coats and veiled toques passed without +catching sight of the clerk who had sent them to 658. Three or four men +of the commercial traveller type glanced at the gray and brown figures; +but the elevator had at that moment released a golden-haired, black-eyed +young woman in a pink evening dress. She became at once an object of +interest, and the plainly-cloaked pair vanished unnoticed. + +The taxi, which had been ordered to wait, was at a distance. They +hurried to it. It was Clo who opened the door of the cab, and almost +pushed Angel in! + +"Shall I tell him to go to the corner where he picked us up?" she asked. +Beverley nodded, and sank back against the shabby leather cushions. This +was Clo's moment. She had led up to it, and decided what to do. First +she placed the bag of jewels in Beverley's lap. Next she spoke to the +chauffeur, giving clear directions. Then she slammed the door shut, and +stepped back upon the sidewalk, motioning to the man to start. + +"Angel will be so surprised, she won't know what to do for a minute," +the girl thought. "By the time she pulls herself together she'll realize +it's too late to stop me." + +As fast as she dared, Clo retraced her steps to the hotel. She hated to +leave Beverley alone, but between two evils it seemed that she had +chosen the less. When the taxi stopped Beverley would get out; and then +she would have a few blocks to walk before reaching home. As for the +bag, she could hardly forget it in the cab. The thing was too heavy to +fall from her lap without being noticed. She would have the jewels safe, +while Clo tried to bargain with ferret-face on promises of reward. + +By the time she had argued away her worst tremors, Clo had again entered +the Hotel Westmorland. She had decided to say that her friend had +forgotten something if a question were asked; but the desk was still +surrounded with its group of talkative men, and she walked to the stairs +at the back of the hall as if she were a guest of the hotel. Thence she +toiled to the top. + +It was only when she approached the door of Number 658, and saw once +more the brown trunk at the end of the hall, that Clo remembered the odd +side-issue of her adventure. She hesitated between the need for haste +and the wish to solve the mystery that troubled her. But it would take +only a minute to run to the trunk, to sit on it again, and see what +happened! Meanwhile, any one who went in, or came out from, Number 658, +must do so under her eyes. + +Curiosity conquered. Clo tip-toed to the trunk, sat heavily down on the +rounded top, as she had done before, and nothing happened. There was no +sign of movement within; and Clo wondered if, after all, the thing that +had jumped under the lid had been created by her own jumping nerves. +Suddenly the impulse came upon her to try and open it. She seized the +corner of the rounded lid, but it remained immovable. She picked at the +metal hasp which covered the cheap lock. It did not yield, but her +fingers--or she fancied it--touched moisture. The girl shrank back and +looked at her hand. Thumb and forefinger were smeared with blood. + +The girl felt sick, and might have fainted comfortably. "Pooh!" she +scolded herself. "You've cut your finger. Serve you right for not +minding your own business. Go to it now, and no nonsense, if you +please!" + +Goading herself to courage she marched to the door of 658 and knocked. +No answer came, and the girl's heart sank. It seemed too bad to be true +that Peterson should have escaped during the few minutes spent in +putting Angel into a taxi. Besides, she had scarcely gone beyond +eye-shot of the hotel entrance. + +"Perhaps he's asleep," thought Clo. She turned the handle, and to her +surprise the door yielded. She had expected to find it locked. As +before, the room was unlit save by golden reflections from the street +below. The girl opened the door wide, and deliberately looked in. +Strange; there sat the man in his easy chair in front of the window, +with his mean profile outlined against the light, just as he had sat +when Beverley had answered the summons to "Come in!" One would say, to +look at him, that he had not moved an inch. + +Clo's theory had gone wrong. She had urged her conviction upon Angel +that he was the thief; that, if he were the thief, he would "make his +get-away" in haste. Yet here he sat, in the dark, asleep. + +She stepped across the threshold, felt along the wall for an electric +switch, found it, and flooded the room with light. Still the figure in +the chair did not stir. + +Clo glanced round the squalid room. Peterson had begun to pack. A +suitcase lay open on the narrow bed. The wrinkled gray-white counterpane +was half covered with scattered clothing. + +"If he's fast enough asleep, I can go through everything," she thought, +"including his pockets!" + +The girl walked in, and closed the door resolutely but softly, her eyes +always upon the figure in the chair. She mustn't begin to search the +place without making sure that Peterson was not playing "possum." It +would be awful, when her back was turned, to have him pounce upon her +like a monkey. She tip-toed across the room, and stopped in front of the +easy-chair, within a yard of the stretched-out feet, where she could +take a good look at the sleeper. His head was bent down over his breast, +and the girl had to stoop a little to peer into the face. But a glance +sent her reeling back against a chest of drawers. The top of the man's +head had been crushed in by some blunt instrument. His forehead and the +side of his face turned toward the window were covered with blood. His +shirt and coat were soaked with it, in a long red stripe, and a dark +pool had formed in a vague heart-shape on the patterned carpet. + +Clo had never before seen a dead man, yet she did not doubt that this +man was dead. He could have been dead for a short time only. The blood +on the livid face glistened wet in the electric light. It had hardly +ceased to drip from the wound in his head. + +For a time Clo stood still, as if frozen. But slowly the power to think +came back. To her own horror and disgust she found herself wondering if +Beverley Sands had killed Peterson. It would have been a tremendous blow +for a woman to strike, but Beverley was desperate, and she was strong. +She had boasted of her strength of arm only the other day, to Sister +Lake, who had tested and admired the splendid firmness of her young +muscles. Besides, the man had been caught unawares, and had been struck +from behind; the position of the wound showed that. On a small table by +the chair lay the weapon. It was a long pistol, Clo did not know of what +kind or make, but it looked old-fashioned; and there was no question as +to the way in which it had been used. Someone had taken it by the muzzle +and struck with the butt end, which was coated with blood and hairs. +Perhaps the pistol had not been loaded, or perhaps the murderer--(no, +"avenger" was the better word, with that fear knocking at her heart!) +had not dared fire because of the noise. + +Clo's mind began to work more quickly. She pieced details together. The +person who had killed Peterson could not have picked up the pistol from +that table without being seen by him, therefore it had been lying there +before the murder. Most likely it had lain on the bed, among the strewn +things which ferret-face had begun to pack. In that case any one +entering the room might have spied and snatched it, unsuspected by the +man in the chair. + +"If my poor, tortured Angel didn't do this, I can bear anything!" Clo +told herself. "It wouldn't so much matter for me. I'd have killed him +for her sake--I believe. But for her it would be horrible!" + +The girl remembered the blood on her fingers, which she had found after +touching the lock of the brown trunk, and this remembrance gave her +hope. The murderer must have passed that way, whereas Beverley had not +been near the trunk. "Thank goodness for one good bit of evidence in +case it's ever needed!" Clo thought. "Who knows but the murderer was +hiding in the trunk, and jumped in his fright when I plumped down on it? +Well, if he did, he must either be smothered by now, since the trunk's +been locked since then, or else he's escaped. Oh, Angel, how could I +dream for a minute it might have been you? And yet if this wretch was +dead then, who called 'Come in?'" + +A wild impulse to run away seized the girl. She started toward the door, +but stopped half way. No, she would not fail Angel. The man was dead. He +could do her no harm. If Beverley's pearls, or if Beverley's papers, +were in this room, no matter where, even if she had to touch that +blood-stained coat to search the pockets, she would not go without them. + +The dark blind ought to be pulled down, because from some high window +she might be seen and identified afterward, if trouble came of this +night's work. To reach the blind she had to step over the feet which +sprawled beyond the chair; and stretching up her arm to touch the broken +cord, she was conscious that her dress brushed the dead man's knees. + +Next she went to the bed, and began turning over Peterson's miserable +belongings. She prayed that, by a miracle, she might come across the +sealed envelope. As for the pearls, if the murderer were of the Peterson +type, to steal them would have been his first thought. But--it would +need a stout-hearted criminal to go through the pockets of his victim, +and if the motive were other than theft, it might be that the pearls and +papers were still on the body. If Clo failed to find them elsewhere she +would have to ransack those pockets. The thought was too horrible to +dwell upon. Frantically she tossed over the contents of the suitcase, +lifting and shaking every garment scattered on the bed. She peered under +the pillows; she pulled out the drawers of wash-stand and +dressing-table; but there was nothing to be found there, not even a +letter, not a torn morsel of paper which could serve Beverley's cause. +Clo's spirit groaned a prayer for strength when at last--sick and +shaking, her palms damp--she had to set about the pillage of the dead +man's pockets. Some she needed merely to touch with her finger ends, to +make sure that they were empty. Others had to be searched to their +depths: and the girl felt convinced that she would die if in the horrid +business she plunged a hand into some unseen sop of blood. + +From a waistcoat pocket she pulled out a small leather cigarette case, +still warm from the wearer's breast--another proof, if she had let +herself think of it, that he had not long been dead. In the leather +case, behind a store of tightly packed cigarettes, was a card--the +cheapest sort of visiting card, on which, scrawled in pencil, was the +name Lorenz Czerny. On the back of this card, in a different +handwriting, but also in pencil, a memorandum had been scribbled. A +glance showed Clo that it consisted of names, abbreviated addresses, and +the hours of appointments, or perhaps of trains. She did not stop to +examine the card thoroughly, but slipped it into her pocket for future +reference, and went on with her task. + +The sealed envelope she sought was too large not to protrude over the +top of any pocket of a man's indoor coat; but Clo reflected that the +envelope might have been destroyed, and the contents distributed, or +folded into smaller compass. With this idea she spared herself nothing +in her quest; but the sole reward she had (save for the cigarette case) +was the finding of a paragraph cut from a newspaper, a roll of +blood-stained greenbacks, which she hastily replaced, and a torn silk +handkerchief. The newspaper cutting told of Roger Sands' magnificent +house in Newport, whither he and his "beautiful young bride" would +shortly move. This also Clo annexed, in order that no connection should +seem to exist between Beverley Sands and the man Peterson when the +police got to work. The handkerchief she took from the coat pocket into +which it had been untidily stuffed, in order to search underneath. But +the nervous jerk she gave pulled out something else also--something +small, which fell to the floor with a tinkle as of a tiny stone striking +wood, when it touched a chair leg, and rolled under the chest of +drawers. Clo had not time to see what the thing was. There was only a +flashing glimpse of a pebble-like object as it disappeared. But her +heart leaped at the thought of what it might be. Thrusting the ragged +handkerchief into a pocket already examined, she had just stooped to +peer under the clumsy piece of furniture when a telephone bell began to +ring. + +The girl sprang to her feet, quivering and alert. It seemed that the +bell had rung almost in her ear. Someone was calling for Peterson! + + + + +XXI + +"KIT!" + + +Somehow Clo got to the telephone, which was placed on the wall by the +door, and her hand trembled on the receiver before she realized that the +bell which rang was in the adjoining room. There was no communicating +door between, but the wall must be almost as thin as cardboard, for the +noise seemed to smite her ear-drum. For an instant Clo's relief was +overwhelming; but as the shrill noise struck her nerves blow after blow, +they rebelled. Her brain refused to work until, suddenly, blessed +silence fell. + +Once more she had a sense of being saved. The power of recollection came +back. She knew that she had been going to look for the thing which had +dropped out of Peterson's handkerchief, and rolled out of sight. She +went down on her knees for the second time, but only to spring up, and +stand quivering like a creature at bay. Again the telephone bell was +ringing, and now the sound was in the room. The call was for 658. She +answered at once. + +"Hello!" she saluted the unknown. + +"Hello!" came the response, in a man's voice. "This is Chuff calling. +Are you Peterson?" + +"Peterson is in the room," returned Clo, after an instant's pause, in +which her heart missed a beat. "But he can't come to the 'phone." + +"Oh, say, is that you, Kit?" the man wanted to know. + +Clo was almost incapable of thinking; but she was vaguely aware that the +accent was slightly foreign. "Yes," she ventured. "It's Kit." + +"Nice thing you are! I've been trying to get you the last ten minutes. +Thought your room was next door to his. Couldn't you hear your own +'phone from Petes'?" + +"I've just come in," said Clo. + +"You're late. Anything wrong? Your voice sounds sort of queer." + +"I've got chewing gum in my mouth," said Clo "What do you want to say to +Pete?" + +"I want to know if he's got the papers." + +Clo's blood rushed to her head. This looked like a wonderful chance to +tap a secret, if she didn't lose it by giving the wrong answers. +Beverley Sands' whole future might depend upon the next few minutes. + +"Hold the line a second or two," she said. She needed to think. + +If she replied that Peterson had the papers, embarrassing questions +might be asked. If she said that he hadn't, the man at the telephone +might end the conversation before she had learned enough to help Angel. +"I'll try hedging," she decided, and began again with a tentative +"Hello!" For an instant there was no response, and Clo was sick with +fear lest she had been cut off. But luck was with her. The +foreign-sounding voice began again: "Well, is Pete there this time?" + +"No," said the girl. "Pete is--packing. He wants me to say it isn't much +after ten. He's expecting to get the papers any minute now." + +"He 'phoned me he'd made ten the time limit. Didn't he tell Olga that +Stephen would sure be done for if she didn't hand over the real docs by +ten o'clock sharp?" + +"Olga!" ... "Stephen!" ... Clo felt that she was hearing things she had +no right to know. + +"The lady's had her hands full all the afternoon and evening," she +answered carefully. "I suppose you know what's been going on?" + +"Don't know a damned thing since Pete 'phoned some little skirt had +brought around the wrong papers to the hotel. Tell him to quit his +packing and show up at the 'phone." + +"He's gone out this very instant," said Clo. "A boy has come to the door +to say there was someone to see him downstairs. Maybe it's the right +one. He won't be long anyhow. But I'm just as glad to have a chance for +a word with you while he's out of the way. Seems sort of funny he didn't +put you wise about the excitement, you know where." + +"You mean Park Avenue?" + +"Yes. I can't talk in the 'phone the way I would if the wall was +thicker. Didn't Pete tell you about the present of pearls the lady got +from her husband?" + +"What pearls?" + +"I can't give you their whole history, but maybe Pete could, if he +wanted to." + +"What makes you think so? Have you got on to some frame up, or are you +kidding?" + +"Well. Somebody relieved the lady of them. That's what's made her busy +the rest of the time. Might account for documents being late." + +"Say, what are you giving me? Has Pete made a deal on his own?... Pearls +instead of papers?" + +"Hold the line again for a jiffy, and I'll go through his togs." + +"All right. Look sharp." + +Clo let the receiver hang loose, and for the third time went down on her +knees before the chest of drawers. Thrusting her arm underneath, she +passed her hand over the dirty carpet. Lodged against the wall at the +back, and in a corner, was something round and hard, a thing which +seemed to be about the size of a small filbert. The girl brought it out +between thumb and finger, freed it of dust, and saw an immense pearl. + +"That settles that!" she said to herself. Peterson was the thief. But +had he stolen the envelope as well as the pearls? Oh, if she could only +galvanize the dead to speak! But the next best thing was to speak to the +telephone. The truth might come from that direction, bit by bit, piecing +the different parts of the story together. + +Clo, getting to her feet again, was struck with a sudden luminous idea. + +"Kit," the woman she was personating, the woman apparently set to watch +Peterson, had found out about the pearls. Either she had believed him a +traitor to the "gang," or she had wanted the pearls for herself. In +either case she had killed him to get them; and one pearl had escaped to +tell the tale of its fellows. + +Yes, "Kit" had the pearls. But where were they, and where was she? The +woman was not in her room, because the telephone bell had been ringing +there and she hadn't answered. What if she hadn't been able to get back +to her room after the murder? Kit might have locked her door when she +came to have a chat with Peterson. It was likely enough there'd be +things in her quarters which she wouldn't want a prying chambermaid to +see! Perhaps she'd seen Peterson looking at the pearls. Perhaps, when +she knocked, he had thrust the broken rope back into his pocket with the +loose pearls. Perhaps Kit had put him off his guard, chatting of other +things, while he packed. But no, she had caught him unawares when he sat +as he was sitting now! Clo pictured her offering to help him pack. He +had lolled comfortably while Kit worked. Then, she had come behind him +and dealt that frightful blow with the butt of his own pistol. A strong, +determined woman, Kit! + +Clo remembered how she and Beverley had walked slowly from the corridor +of the lift into Peterson's corridor, looking at the numbers over the +doors; and remembered how she had said to Angel, "This must be the right +way to turn." Even after that, they had paused a moment for Beverley to +gather up her failing courage; and if Kit had then been in the act of +opening the trunk, she could easily have hidden herself inside before +the owners of the voices she heard had turned the corner. It must have +given her a beautiful fright when someone sat down on the trunk with a +thud! No wonder she had jumped, and made the big box shake! + +Kit's actions later could be plausibly accounted for, too. She must have +guessed that one of the women she had heard speaking (had seen, perhaps, +if she contrived to peep from the trunk when their backs were turned) +had been in Peterson's room. How she must have wished that she'd taken +time to lock his door on the outside! As it was, she couldn't have been +sure that an alarm would not be given downstairs. Her one thought must +have been haste; and Clo doubted that, if she had forgotten her key in +Peterson's room, she would have ventured back to get it. No, she would +have crept out of the trunk, and looked at her dress in the dim light to +see whether blood stains showed. If she wore dark clothing, she might +have run the risk. Clo pictured her locking the trunk, and following, as +closely as she dared, the cloaked figures in gray and brown; pictured +her pausing in the background to see whether the pair stopped at the +desk, or went away with their secret; pictured her relief when they +passed on in silence; and the bid for freedom she must have made a +minute later. + +"I bet, by the time we were in our taxi, that woman was out of this, and +legging it as fast as she could go. She wouldn't have taken a cab, for +fear of being traced," Clo finished her reflections. She stared at the +pearl in her hand. + +"Awkward for me if Kit gets to the man at the other end while her double +chats to him at the Westmorland!" the girl thought, and flew back to the +telephone. "Are you there?" she called. + +"You bet your sweet life I'm here. Did you find the beans?" + +"I've found something I must bring to you. Where's the safest place?" + +"What's the matter with here?" + +"It won't do," she answered. "It's on account of Pete!" + +"Well, then, come to Churn's. When'll you be there?" + +This was a blow. Clo was angling for an address, with street and number. +But she would not be downed by one disappointment. "Same reason holds +good for Churn's," she said. "Can't you think of some place Pete doesn't +know? And think quick, or he'll be back." + +"Think quick yourself! We'll go round to your own house, you dub! Pete +ain't sure where your real pitch is--unless you've blabbed." + +"I may have dropped something that's put him wise," the girl persisted +in desperation. "I tell you I'm not talking to hear myself talk when I +ask for a new place." + +"Krantz's Keller, then, eleven thirty." + +"Right for Krantz's Keller. But I can't be sure of eleven thirty. I'll +have to keep an eye on Pete till I know what he's up to. Maybe I can +'phone you there. What's Krantz's number?" + +"Can't give it to you without looking it up. Haven't you got the book +there?" + +"No. Somebody must have nicked it." + +"Ain't there one in your own room next door?" + +"Yes. But say--a fool thing's happened. I locked my door when I came in +to Pete's, and I've dropped my key." + +"Find it, and go look at the book. Jake's got mine. I'll call you up in +your room in five minutes. Then if Pete's back it won't matter. See?" + +"Yes. But----Have you gone?" + +There was no answer. Clo could do nothing save hang up the receiver, and +begin to search for a key which, despite her elaborate deductions, might +be in "Kit's" pocket for all she knew. Luck was with her once more, +however. On the floor by the mantelpiece lay a key, almost hidden in the +deep fur of a mangy, goat-hair rug. Clo might have wasted twice the time +in her search, had she not stepped on it. + +"I'll make the best of a bad bargain," she promised herself. "If I must +go to Kit's room, I won't throw away a single second." + +She fastened Peterson's door on the outside, and fitted the key she had +found, into the lock of the door at the left, in front of which stood +the brown trunk. + +The key served, as she had felt certain it would. Hastily she locked +herself into the room, and switched on the light. It was a mean little +room, a facsimile of Peterson's in most of its features, but a woman's +clothing hung from hooks on the door, and on the bed and chairs and +dressing table a woman's belongings were flung untidily about; hats, +gloves, collars, and a handbag of jet and steel beads. Kit must have +hated to leave that bag, thought Clo. She drew the ribbons, and took a +hasty peep at the bag's contents. There was a soiled suede purse, and in +that purse, mixed up with a few greenbacks, there were some papers. Clo +dared not stop to examine them. She could only hope that they might give +clues which she had failed to obtain from the telephone. + +There were four or five frocks hanging on the door, showy blouses and +bright-coloured skirts; but Clo searched in vain for pockets. In the +chest of drawers, which was the twin of Peterson's, was a certain amount +of underclothing, much trimmed with cheap lace. There were silk +petticoats with torn frilling, and shoes and slippers. But nothing was +marked with name, or even initials. Kit, though gaudily coquettish in +her taste, was apparently careless in her habits. Clo no longer visioned +Kit large, masculine, and determined, a tigress woman. Instead she saw a +lithe, cat-like creature, strong, no doubt (it had taken strength to +strike that blow and Clo would have staked her life that it had been +struck by Kit) but not big or massive. + +The five minutes grace must certainly have passed before Clo had come to +the end of her inspection, but the telephone was silent. This struck the +girl as ominous, for it might mean that Kit had appeared in person at +the other end of the line. It might mean that some trap was being laid +to catch Kit's double. + +"If she turns up, and tells everything, they can't let me get away with +what I know, even about Krantz's Keller," Clo told herself. "They'll +have to send someone to watch, especially if they think I'm a 'tec, +who's found Peterson's body. They won't know what I'm like. All the +same, if they don't call me up in just one minute more, I must make a +bolt. I'll count sixty, and--see what happens." + + + + +XXII + +THE VOICE THAT DID NOT SEEM STRANGE + + +What happened was that the telephone began ringing in the next +room--Peterson's room. It began when Clo had counted up to forty. + +She had hoped not to go back to the room of the dead man. She had +searched it from end to end. But now she knew the thing would have to be +done. + +Already the jet and steel bag hung by its ribbons over her arm. Clo +switched off the electricity, and let herself out into the hall. Before +she had finished her count of sixty seconds she was once more locked in +Peterson's room. So confidently had she expected to hear the same +foreign-sounding accents that she almost dropped the receiver and +started away when her "Hello!" was answered by a strange voice. + +Yet--was it a strange voice? As it went on to ask: "Is this Mr. +Peterson?" Clo had a strong impression that she had heard the voice +before. Assuredly it was not the one which had talked to "Kit," but it +sounded astonishingly familiar. Though she could not yet identify the +tones recognition was only a question of instants. + +"This is Mr. Peterson's room," she replied. "He is--here. He wishes me +to speak for him." + +"I had better tell you before we go further, then, that I'm talking for +Mr. John Heron. When you have explained that, Mr. Peterson will decide +whether he'd rather come to the 'phone and attend to the business +himself." + +Clo was glad of the pause. "John Heron!" That was the man Peterson had +mentioned during her second conversation with him. He had said that +Roger Sands was "working for John Heron" when Roger and Beverley met in +the train; and she--Clo--had heard the name with a queer thrill which +she could not understand. So far as she knew, it was strange to her: yet +she seemed to have heard it in dreams--sad dreams, where someone had +sobbed in the dark. Through the strenuous adventures which had kept body +and brain busy the girl had recalled it again and again, since the +moment when the name had fallen from Peterson's lips. She had wondered +if she would ever have the "cheek" to ask Angel who was John Heron. +Whoever he might be, John Heron was in some way concerned with +Beverley's secret, or Peterson would not have spoken his name in that +connection. + +She answered quietly: "Mr. Peterson allows me to go on speaking for +him." + +"Very well," returned the voice. "Mr. Peterson called Mr. Heron up not +long ago, to say he could sell him a rope of fine pearls for Mrs. Heron, +at a low price. He'd heard, it appears, that Mr. Heron wished to buy +pearls, and he suggested an appointment for to-night. Mr. Heron did not +receive this message himself; he was indisposed at the time it came, and +Mrs. Heron took it, but was unable to answer for her husband. He asks me +to say, in his name, that if Mr. Peterson has some particularly fine +pearls to dispose of, he'll be pleased to look at them, not to-night, +but to-morrow morning about ten o'clock, at his hotel, the Dietz." + +"The Dietz!" cried Clo. "Now I know who's speaking to me. You're Justin +O'Reilly!" + +Inadvertently she had kept her lips at the receiver. The cry had flown +to the man who held the line. + +"And you're my girl burglar! By Jove, I thought I knew that voice! Are +you in the pearl business, too? Has Mrs. Sands commissioned you and some +fellow called Peterson to sell her pearls to Mrs. Heron? Now I begin to +see light! She tried to make a bargain with me over those pearls. I +refused in Heron's name and my own. What's her game now, when there's +nothing left to bargain for, and you've sent the papers back?" + +"Sent the papers back!" Clo gasped into the telephone. This coming into +touch with O'Reilly over the wire had been a shock. But she forgot the +surprise of it in the new surprise of his last words. + +"Wasn't it you who sent them?" he went on. + +She stopped to think before daring a reply. O'Reilly had got the papers +back, or he wanted her to think so, for some reason of his own. + +"Well, if you must know, perhaps I did send them," she prevaricated. + +"I'm glad to have this chance to thank you for repenting. I felt at the +time you weren't the stuff trick-confidence-ladies and burglaresses are +made of." + +"I didn't exactly repent," confessed Clo. "I had an object to gain. I'm +glad the papers weren't lost on the way. You're sure no one had tampered +with the envelope?" + +"Apparently not. The messenger handed it to me sealed up and seemingly +intact, with the address of my bank on it in my own handwriting. The boy +wouldn't say how he knew I was staying at the Dietz. He is an ornament +to his profession! I want you to know that I don't bear malice." + +As Clo listened she was surprised at the soothing effect of his voice +upon her nerves. It was like hearing the voice of a friend. After all, +why should they be enemies, since of the two O'Reilly was the injured +party, and had just assured her that he didn't "bear malice?" But he was +going on to ask what was the "object" she had wished to gain. "Do you +mean to tell me, or is it one of your many mysteries?" + +"I realized I'd gone to work with you in the wrong way," she ventured. +"Now I need someone's help. I need it horribly. It ought to be a man's +help. And, except Mr. Sands, you're the only man I know." + +She heard O'Reilly laughing. He wouldn't laugh if he could see what her +eyes saw! + +"So you want to call a truce?" he asked. + +"Yes, if I could trust you." + +"I like that! I wasn't the betrayer. But never mind. Your second +thoughts are best. And anyhow, you weren't working for yourself. Do you +really want my help?" + +"Don't I? But it would be for--for----You know whom I mean. And you're +her enemy, aren't you?" + +"Not the least in the world. But I can't buy her pearls, and I'm sure +Heron will refuse to bargain if----" + +"The pearls aren't for sale any more. They've been stolen. She thinks +you took them for a hold-up." + +"The devil she does! But you know better. Tell me what you wish me to do +for you, and I'll do it; I wanted to see you again. You were like a bad +but interesting dream, broken off in the midst, that I longed to dream +over again." + +"I _feel_ as if I had been broken off in the midst!" said Clo. "I may be +broken past mending if somebody doesn't pick up the pieces good and +quick! What I want you to do is to meet me outside the Westmorland. Will +you? And if so, how soon?" + +"I will," came the answer. "I'll be there in eight minutes, with a taxi. +Does that suit you?" + +"Yes. Have the taxi drawn up in front of the hotel, and as it slows +down, I'll jump in. Give the chauffeur an order--before he starts--not +to stop, you know, but to go on the instant I'm in. A lot may depend on +that." + +"What mischief have you been up to?" asked the laughing voice, which to +Clo, in the room of death, seemed to come from another world. + +She shuddered as her eyes turned to the figure in the chair. + +"Good-bye!" she said, and hung up the receiver without another word. + +Eight minutes! It would take her about three to get out of the room, +down the stairs, and to the front door--if all went well. What was she +to do with the other five? Now that her mission was ended, she could not +stay where she was. She had reached, and almost passed, the limit of her +endurance. One idle moment in that place would surely drive her mad! Yet +she could not stand in the street, waiting for O'Reilly to come to the +rescue. Kit and the man who had talked to Kit might be ready to pounce +upon her there. + + + + +XXIII + +"WHAT'S DONE CAN'T BE UNDONE" + + +"Don't be frightened, Mums! It's only me, back earlier than I expected," +Ellen Blackburne announced herself at the door of her mother's bedroom. + +Mrs. Blackburne was propped up in bed, reading Young's "Night Thoughts." + +"Of course, I'm not frightened!" she reassured her daughter. "I'm only +surprised. That's what makes my hands tremble." + +"I was in hopes you'd have gone to sleep," said Ellen, "and I could slip +in without giving you a start. I stopped the taxi at the corner on +purpose." + +"I'm delighted to have you back. But why did you bring the pearls home +to string? Now you'll be sitting up the whole blessed night!" + +"Don't you worry!" Ellen soothed her. "I'm not going to sit up. I'm +going to bed. Shall I leave the door open between the rooms while I +undress, or shall I just kiss you good-night now, and let you rest in +peace?" + +The little woman had sat down on the edge of the bed, but as she spoke, +she stood up. It struck the older woman that, for some reason, she was +in a hurry to get away. + +"There's something you don't want to tell me, isn't there, dear?" her +mother quietly observed. + +"Well, you have the most wonderful intuition!" Ellen praised her parent. +"I believe you could see through a wall. It's only that I didn't want to +wake you up and make you nervous, so you would have a bad night." + +"I shall have a better night if I don't need to rack my brain thinking +over what might have happened." + +"Oh, all right!" sighed Ellen, and sat down again. "You're a grand +safety valve, you know, Mums, because I can talk to you, and be sure +that whatever I say will be locked up in your strong box. I meant to +write all this down in my notebook, with initials instead of names; but +the diary can't give advice. You can. Only--you're certain we hadn't +best wait till to-morrow?" + +"I shouldn't close my eyes!" said Mrs. Blackburne. "But I can say this +to begin with: You did the right thing. You always do." + +"This is different from anything that ever came into my experience," +Ellen answered. + +"I told you before I started, I thought I was in for an exciting job. It +wasn't only that Mr. Sands is a sort of celebrity, and everyone has been +talking of Mrs. Sands as a beauty. It was the man himself gave me a kind +of thrilled feeling the minute I saw him. Mums, Roger Sands is the sort +I could fall in love with, if I was the falling-in-love type. He's +strong and silent. He isn't a bit a woman's man. I don't know how to +describe him, exactly. He made me feel as if I longed to do something +for him. I was mighty keen to see what Mrs. Sands would be like. I +suppose to see what style of woman he'd worship enough to pick up from +the gutter." + +"Goodness me, child!" broke in Mrs. Blackburne, absorbed. "You don't +mean that's where she came from? I never heard----" + +"No--no! I oughtn't to have used that expression," Ellen confessed, +"though they tell all sorts of stories about her origin. I daresay none +of 'em are right, and not a soul knows the truth. People have given her +a nickname: 'the girl from nowhere.' But you've only to see her to +realize at once that whatever she was, she must have been brought up +like a princess." + +"Handsome?" + +"A dream of beauty. She's worthy of her husband that way, but she's not +in other ways. That's my excuse." + +"Your excuse, lovey? For what?" + +"For what I did. But you won't know why I did it, or forgive me for +doing it, unless I tell you the story as I understand it." + +"Go right on, dear, and take your time. I won't interrupt again." So +Ellen gave her mother a succinct account of all that had befallen her, +until the fateful moment when she discovered that the pearls were not in +their case. + +"The case empty! The pearls gone! My goodness me!" gasped the old lady. + +"I never had such a scare in my life. Mrs. Sands had told me how she'd +been dressing in her bedroom, with the door wide open into the boudoir, +because the pearls were there, all ready for me to begin on, if I +arrived before she'd got into her gown. She either believed the pearls +were in the case, or else she wanted me to believe she believed it! The +desperate state she was in, under her pretty manner, made me think maybe +she was playing some dreadful trick, and after I'd got over the first +shock of surprise I was mad with that woman. 'She doesn't care if she +ruins me, so she can save herself from a scrape,' was what I thought +about her. I made up my mind I wouldn't be catspaw, to pull her +chestnuts out of the fire." + +"What did you do?" breathed Mrs. Blackburne, sitting straight up in bed. + +"I rang the bell for the butler. He came to the door in an instant. I +told him to call Mrs. Sands at once, it was urgent. I thought that would +fetch her, but it didn't. It was the man who came back. He seemed a bit +embarrassed: Mrs. Sands was very busy at the moment, it would be a +little while before she was at liberty. It came into my head that she +was leaving me alone as long as possible in the room where her wonderful +pearls were supposed to be, so she could accuse me of making away with +them, when the truth had to come out, that the pearls were gone. I saw +just one thing to do. I told the butler to call Mr. Sands, quick. 'Mr. +Sands is just going,' he said. 'I was ready to help him on with his coat +when you rang.' 'Well, beg him to step in here one instant,' said I. The +man went out; and I couldn't have counted ten before Mr. Sands appeared. +I pointed to the empty case that was open on the table, and explained in +about a dozen words--I wanted to finish before Madam arrived!--that Mrs. +Sands had told me to look in the case for the pearls; that she went out +in a hurry; and when I looked, the pearls weren't there. 'I sent and +asked her to come,' I went on, 'but she was busy.' + +"Well, Mother, the face of that man just broke my heart! It was more as +if some awful thing he'd half expected, had come true. I might have +stuck a knife in his heart. + +"'Does my wife know you asked for me when she couldn't come?' was the +first thing he said after he'd stood quite still for a second or two. I +told him no, I'd taken the responsibility on myself, and I hoped I +hadn't done wrong. + +"'Not wrong,' said he. 'You meant well, I'm sure. Still, I wish the news +had come to me from my wife and no one else.' + +"Then he walked over to the window, and stood looking out. If I hadn't +known he was there, I shouldn't have seen him. The curtains were drawn, +not all across, but partly, and it was a sort of bay window, so there +was room for him to stand behind the curtains, in the shadow they made. +He hadn't been there two seconds, I give you my word, when the door flew +open, and Mrs. Sands bounced in. + +"'You sent for me?' she asked, and threw a look round the room, as if +searching for someone. I felt I should die if her husband came out--but +he didn't. I managed to stammer that the pearls weren't in their case, +and so on; and it seemed as if my words turned her to a block of marble! +She just stared at me. 'Maybe you think I stole the pearls!' I said +right out. She assured me quite nicely that she believed nothing so +foolish, and that even if I'd wanted to steal the things, I couldn't +have smuggled them away from the house. (Of course, I could, though, if +there had been time.) My heart melted to her, I must confess. But I was +thinking more of her husband. It was up to me to get him out of the fix. +I suggested to Mrs. Sands calling in Clo, to see what she could make of +the business. The instant she was gone, out from the bay window stalked +her husband! By that time I was at the door. I'd opened it for Mrs. +Sands. I hardly dared glance at him--it seemed so prying. All I +know--for sure, now--is that he stopped for an instant at the table. He +had to pass it, on the way from his hiding place to the door. I supposed +then, when he paused there, that he would be gazing at the empty velvet +case. But he may have been doing something different--I'll tell you why +and what, in a minute. + +"I stood without moving, and, as he came near the door he stopped again. +'Miss Blackburne,' he said, 'you've been mixed up against your will, and +not by any fault of your own, in an unfortunate business. It's a family +affair, and I feel certain you'll keep your own counsel. Don't think I'm +trying to bribe you. I'm not. But I should like you to accept this.' My +arms were hanging straight down at my sides, but he managed to stick +something into one of my hands. What do you think it was?" + +"Fifty dollars?" her mother guessed. + +"Fifty fiddlesticks! It was five hundred!" + +"My heavens! Enough to pay off the mortgage. But you couldn't possibly +accept it?" + +"I said no. I swore that I'd done nothing to earn a cent: that wild +horses wouldn't drag from me anything I'd seen, or heard, or even +imagined, in his house. But Mr. Sands insisted. 'It will give me +pleasure for you to have the money. It's little enough,' he said. Then +he walked right out. He must have gone back to his own room instead of +leaving the flat just then, for I saw him again later. I'll tell you +about that. But do you think it was wrong to keep the money?" + +"In the circumstances, no," Mrs. Blackburne decided. "It would have hurt +his feelings to give it back. Oh, my dear, five hundred dollars! It's +like a fairy gift, just when we're needing it so much!" + +"Well, I'd got the bills tucked away when Mrs. Sands came running in. +She made for the table, the way a pointer goes for a shot bird. She +hadn't a glance for the velvet case. She was searching for something +else. Oh, Mother, it scared me to see her! She threw everything about. +She was out of her head. A tall vase of flowers tipped over, and +splashed water on the books, and even on the velvet case. I don't think +she knew it had happened. Books fell on the floor. She didn't see or +care. Then she sank all of a heap into a big chair close by. 'The +envelope?' she gasped, as if she were choked by a hand on her throat. +'It was there. Where is it now?' + +"I told her I hadn't seen any envelope, which was perfectly true. She +described it: quite a big, long envelope, made of linen, and sealed up +with several red seals. I swore over again I hadn't seen an envelope of +any description. At last she had to believe me. But the worst was to +come. 'Did you leave the room, for so much as a second, after I left +you?' she asked, with her eyes on my face. I told her I hadn't stirred +outside the door; but what I was scared of came next: 'Did any one come +in?'" + +"Oh, lovey, I hope you didn't have to tell a falsehood?" + +"That depends on what you call a falsehood," said Miss Blackburne. "I +hate fibs as much as you do. But it was an awful fix!" + +"It was," Mums agreed. + +"You see," Ellen went on, to make her position clear, "I had asked Mr. +Sands not to let his wife know I'd called him in. Later, he pressed that +money on me, and I accepted it. I felt as if it had bought me, body and +soul. When he stood by the table, he must have seen that envelope, and +taken it. Well, now, I ask you, could I give him away?" + +"I don't see how you could," wailed the old lady. + +"Neither did I. 'Did any one come in?' I echoed, when Mrs. Sands put the +question. 'Wouldn't I have mentioned it to you the first thing, if any +one had?' Was that a falsehood, or wasn't it?" + +"It was a prevarication," answered Mrs. Blackburne, "and I think I +should have done the same thing." + +"Thank goodness!" sighed Ellen. "That's what I wanted to know. You don't +blame me, then?" + +"I feel you acted for the best. And it's done now!" + +"Yes, it's done, and can't be undone," the pearl-stringer echoed. + + + + +XXIV + +ROGER'S APPOINTMENT AT THE CLUB + + +Roger Sands dined alone at his club that night. Many men hailed him as +he came in, very late, and in sixty seconds he received six invitations +to dine. He refused them all, however. + +It was with the hope of meeting a certain man that Roger had gone to the +club. He had excused himself to Beverley on the plea of an appointment, +because he had wanted to be alone, and had no intention of dining +anywhere. + +It was upon an impulse that he had taken the sealed envelope addressed +to Justin O'Reilly. Afterward, he felt that his whole course of conduct, +from the moment he had entered the room till the moment he had left the +flat, was radically wrong. He ought, perhaps, to have shown himself to +Beverley when she came in, despite Miss Blackburne's appeal. If he had +done this, he would have learned the truth about that envelope. Seeing +her husband at such a moment, Beverley must have betrayed herself, Roger +thought, if there were anything to betray in connection with the +envelope. Had its concealment been important, she would mechanically +have sprung to hide it. Had it been left inadvertently by O'Reilly, for +no concern of hers, Beverley's ignorance of his presence, or her +indifference, would have cleared her in Roger's eyes. + +He could not contemplate confessing to Beverley that he had hidden +himself and then taken the envelope. She would probably say: "I never +dreamed that you'd be mean enough to spy upon me! Why didn't you show +yourself, like a brave man, instead of hiding?" + +No, he would not tell Beverley that he had been a witness of the scene +between her and the pearl-stringer; nor that he was responsible for the +vanishing of O'Reilly's envelope. Let her think what she liked about its +loss, just as he--Roger--was free to think what he liked about the loss +of the pearls! He would wait for Beverley to tell him that the pearls +were gone. Her carelessness, to say the best of it, her ingratitude and +disloyalty, to say the worst, gave him the right to keep his knowledge +to himself. He would wait and see what Beverley meant to do. Then he +decided to send back the sealed letter to O'Reilly. Ten minutes after +leaving home he had given the envelope to a messenger, with directions +to take it at once to the Dietz. + +It was when he had thus disciplined himself, that Roger turned toward +the club. A man who was an old acquaintance of Roger's, and a friend of +O'Reilly's, often dropped in there on a Sunday evening. Possibly he +would come that night. Roger had thought of a question to ask. He saw +that there might be a way to getting even with O'Reilly, a way just as +efficacious, and more open, than the one he had sacrificed. + +While he pretended to dine and read an "evening edition," a hateful +little voice in Roger's brain chirped suggestions to him. What if +Beverley had somehow been in O'Reilly's power? What if she had written +him love letters which afterward she wished to get back, and he refused +to surrender? What if she had contrived to steal them, and O'Reilly had +followed, for reprisals? What if, since then, the man had been torturing +her, and Clodagh Riley (a poor relation of Justin O'Reilly's, perhaps) +had been acting as a go-between? What if the girl had pretended illness +as an excuse to bring O'Reilly into the flat, and the man had frightened +Beverley into giving him the pearls? + +He was sipping his demi tasse, and had ceased to expect the man he +wanted, when that man walked into the room. Before he could sit down at +a neighbouring table Roger hailed him; a small, dark man of Jewish type, +a man of forty-five, perhaps, with the brilliant eyes of a scientist and +the arched brows of a dreamer. + +"Hello, Doctor Lewis! I've been hoping you'd blow in!" Sands said +cordially. "Won't you dine with me?" + +"But you've finished. I'd be keeping you." + +"I want a talk with you, my dear chap," Roger assured him. + +The doctor sat down at Sands' table. + +"I'd have got here a long while ago," Doctor Lewis went on to explain, +"but just as I was leaving the Dietz, where I have a patient, I was +asked to stop and see--whom do you think?" + +"Your friend, O'Reilly, perhaps. Someone mentioned to me that he was +there." + +"No," said Lewis, "not O'Reilly, but as it happens, a friends of +O'Reilly's, in the same hotel, who suddenly collapsed." + +"I can guess, then," replied Sands. "I know the Herons are at the Dietz. +Your patient was one of those two--Mrs. Heron, I should say. I don't +somehow see Heron 'collapsing.'" + +"My patient was Heron, not his wife. The attack was nothing serious, but +Mrs. H---- was scared. You and Heron are as fast friends as ever, of +course?" + +"I admire John Heron in many ways," Roger answered, indirectly. + +"And he ought to admire you, as certainly he does! A good many people +thought you risked your life, throwing yourself into that business in +California, the way you did, Sands. But you came out on top, and brought +Heron out on top. Your reward was great!" + +Roger smiled. He was thinking of the journey back, after his triumph, +and of Beverley. She had been his reward. Once it had seemed great. + +"Have you seen Heron since he got to New York?" said the doctor. + +"Not yet," said Sands. + +"Well, he's hardly more than just arrived. Heron's a wiry chap. It needs +a good deal to knock him over. If it had happened last summer, or fall, +when the big row was on, there'd have been plenty of excuse, as Mrs. +Heron remarked. It appears the two had been quietly sitting together +down below, in the big hall, watching the crowd, and waiting for Justin +O'Reilly to go in with them to dinner. Mrs. H---- sent Heron back to +their bedrooms to find something she'd forgotten. She got scared at last +when time passed and neither Heron nor O'Reilly came down. She went to +see for herself what was up, and found her husband in a fainting fit. +She 'phoned just as I was leaving my other patient, and by the time I +arrived on the scene O'Reilly had floated in from the next-door suite. +He'd been out while the Herons thought he was dressing to dine with +them. All's well that ends well. Heron will be as brisk as ever in a day +or two." + +"I'm glad to hear that," Roger said, gravely. "As you say, Heron's not a +man to be knocked over easily. Last year, when I was in California, he +came within an ace of being shot one night, and never turned a hair." + +"His wife was asking him, when he came to, a lot of questions. Heron +wouldn't want to worry her, naturally. Didn't she have some great shock +last summer, or fall, while you were out West? A brother who was killed, +or killed himself?" + +"A brother who died suddenly. There was no proof of violence. The young +man's death occurred the day I left, and not in California, but in New +Mexico--near the town of Albuquerque, at a house belonging to Mrs. +Heron. The Herons haven't been married many years," Roger went on. "Not +more than eight or ten. Mrs. Heron can't be much over thirty. I never +saw the brother. He was something of an invalid, and lived always at the +Albuquerque place. His handsome sister stayed with him sometimes. He was +a few years younger than she." + +Sands had the air of giving these details somewhat grudgingly, as a +concession to the very evident curiosity of Lewis: but having satisfied +it as far as necessary, he turned the conversation to his own affairs: +the affairs, in fact, which had suggested to him this meeting with the +doctor. + +"Whenever I have leisure just now I cut down to Newport to see how the +decorators get on with an alleged 'cottage' I've bought there for my +wife," he said. "It's been quite an amusement to me for the past few +weeks. I'm tired of living in an apartment, though ours isn't bad, as +flats go. I want a house, and I want an old one, or my wife does, with a +little romance of history attached to it. I'd like to get hold of one, +as a surprise for her. I know there aren't many in the market. I suppose +there's nothing good down in your neighbourhood?" + +"Well, as you know, Gramercy Park and all round there has been pretty +thoroughly modernized," said Lewis, who lived in a big new house of +apartments, not far from Gramercy Park. "The only fine, old-fashioned +mansion I can think of, that would just suit you is Miss Theresa +O'Reilly's--a patient of mine--when she's any one's patient. Do you know +anything about the ancient dame?" + +Roger knew so much that he had waited for Lewis entirely for the reason +that Miss Theresa O'Reilly was a patient of his. + +"Isn't she related to your friend, Justin O'Reilly?" he inquired. + +"She's a distant cousin. As for the house, Justin feels that it ought to +be his. I have this from her, not from him. The old lady told me the +other day that she heard Justin had been hoarding up his money to buy +the house, and was coming to New York on purpose to talk matters over, +but she would refuse to see him." + +"A cranky old bird!" Sands sympathized. + +"You're right. Last year she mentioned to several people, me among +others, that she thought of offering the place for sale if she could get +a good price, because the New York climate gave her rheumatism, and +she'd like to try the French Riviera. But the minute she'd spoken to +me--a friend of Justin's--she could have cut out her tongue. You see, +Justin's great-great-grandfather built the house: an Irishman who came +over before the Revolution, and fought with the Americans against the +English. It remained in the family till a few years before Justin's +birth, when his father was obliged to sell through poverty, and move out +West. This old lady, Theresa O'Reilly, was the purchaser. She was, of +course, a youngish woman then, though no chicken. The story is that she +loved Justin's father, and tried to catch him with her money--she was a +rich heiress. He was on the point of engaging himself when he fell +desperately in love with a poor girl Theresa employed as social +secretary, or something of the sort. Out of revenge, Theresa went to +work in secret ways to ruin Justin Senior, who was a gay, careless +fellow, without too much money to lose, or too much patience to make +more. She's said to have put men up to lead him into bad investments. +Anyhow, she got the house, and California got the man and his family. I +imagine there was a hard struggle out there at first. Young Justin has +had to carve his own fortune: his father and mother, and an older +brother, died when he was a boy. All this long story came out of your +wanting an old house. It can't have interested you much, I'm afraid!" + +"Certainly, there's enough romance attached to that house!" said Roger, +with a short laugh. "But Miss O'Reilly has changed her mind, and won't +sell?" + +"So she assures me," answered Lewis. "You see, she couldn't be sure +Justin wasn't standing behind a dummy buyer, now she knows he's +definitely after the place, and able to purchase for a decent price. I +take it that in the circumstances she won't sell to any one. Perhaps she +never meant to when the test came." + +"So poor O'Reilly wants the home of his ancestors?" + +"He does. I've known of that dream for years. He told me once he'd grown +up with it." + +Roger made his comment upon this: but he determined to write to Miss +O'Reilly the moment Lewis had gone. + + + + +XXV + +KRANTZ'S KELLER + + +Clo had been able to think very clearly, while there had been something +definite to think about, but her brain refused this problem of an extra +five minutes, which might mean success or failure. She couldn't stop +where she was; she couldn't hang about in the street, lest the real Kit +had given the false Kit away to the "gang"; yet to dawdle in the +corridor, or on the stairs of the Westmorland Hotel, was unthinkable. +When the murder of Peterson was discovered someone might remember that +slim girl in brown. The police were diabolically clever--now and then. +Who could say if they might not trace that girl in brown, and, finding +her, eventually reach Beverley Sands? + +"One minute must have gone, just while I've been thinking of it!" Clo +told herself. "And Peterson hasn't come alive. Now, if I can only think +hard enough, and forget him and the silence, for two or three minutes, I +can start." + +But the silence broke. Once more her nerves thrilled to the telephone +bell. She was standing by the door, her back resolutely turned to the +figure in the chair, when the sound began. The girl snatched the +receiver and called "Hello" but no one answered. She must get out +quickly, at the risk of having to wait in the street before O'Reilly +could arrive. + +"Unless they live close by, they won't have had time to reach me yet, +even if Kit's given the show away," Clo thought. But of course, "Chuff" +might have 'phoned from a house round the corner. Peterson might have +chosen the Westmorland Hotel in order to be near his friends! + +Clo locked the door, took out the key, and dropped it behind the trunk +at the end of the hall. That would not be unfair to the owner of the +trunk, she thought, for in any case, the blood stains would direct +suspicion to Peterson's vanished neighbour. The key would be only a +detail. + +As she descended the stairways leading from the sixth story to the +ground floor, she met two or three men, but they had the air of tired +commercial travellers going up to bed. Apparently the veiled girl in +brown had no special interest for them. Next came the ordeal of the +entrance hall, and passing the desk; but there a new group of men had +collected. Clo peered through her brown veil, but encountered no curious +glances. Yet the worst was to come. The eight minutes could hardly have +run out; besides, O'Reilly might be late. If "Kit" were true to her +pals, and if she had seen from her hiding place in the trunk, who went +into Peterson's room, the coming moment might hold the greatest peril of +all. The girl hesitated at the door, then sprang into the street as she +might have sprung into a wave. + +Plenty of people were passing as she walked slowly away. She had not +taken many steps, however, when a taxi separated itself from others in +the double line of moving vehicles, and slackened speed near the curb. +The window was open, and Justin O'Reilly was looking out. Clo gave a +welcoming cry, and waved Kit's bead bag. He caught her eye, spoke to the +chauffeur, and the taxi slowed down, short of the hotel entrance. The +girl ran back. O'Reilly held the door ajar, and, putting out his hand, +pulled her in while the car was in motion. He had not forgotten her +orders, and had instructed the driver. On bounded the taxi, as the door +slammed shut, and the sudden jerk, before Clo was seated, flung her into +O'Reilly's arms. He held her for a second or two, and then carefully set +her by his side. + +"By Jove, I'm glad to have you safe!" he said in a warm, kind voice, +which for some reason made Clo want to cry. "I've a hundred things to +say and ask, you child or imp, but first of all, where do you want to +go? Home, or----" + +"To Krantz's Keller," Clo finished the sentence. "Do you know where it +is?" + +"Yes," said O'Reilly. "I know, though I've never been. But----" + +"I've got to go there," said Clo. "If you don't like, you needn't." + +"I do like!" he laughed. "What do you know about Krantz's Keller?" + +"I'll tell you that, and other things, when we arrive," said Clo. +"Please, what time is it?" + +"No thanks to you that I have a watch, and can answer that question," he +thrust at her slyly. The street lights turned to ivory the small face +from which Clo had pushed back the veil. It was a child's face, though +not impish or defiant now; but the great dark eyes, it seemed to the +man, were a woman's eyes. He was conscious that never in his life had he +been so intensely interested in a female thing. She had tricked him, she +had deceived and she had robbed him. Yet his dominant feeling was joyous +triumph at having found her when he had thought her lost. He was happy +because she had summoned him, excited because they were going side by +side toward some unknown adventure. + +He looked at his watch which had been retrieved from the wall safe, and +said that the time was twelve minutes to eleven. Krantz's Keller was in +Fourteenth Street, and they could reach there at the hour, for already +the cab was moving in the right direction. "Are you in a hurry?" he +asked, "or shall we go a round-about way and talk things over? The +Keller won't be at its best till nearly midnight." + +"I've a--sort of appointment at eleven-thirty," Clo said. "But I'd like +to be on the spot before that, for a look round to get my bearings. I +daresay I can tell you the whole story in twelve minutes. I've learned +the lesson to-night that almost anything can happen, and you can live +years in the time that it takes to button a pair of shoes." + +"Certainly _you_ can accomplish more in a few brief minutes than any +other person I ever met! My own experience with you proves that!" +O'Reilly laughed. But the girl's face was drawn. He remembered hearing +that she had been dangerously ill. He wished her to realize that he was +ready to give sympathy as well as help. "I don't want to talk of myself, +but of you. Tell me what you care to tell. You may trust me." + +"You're sure?" insisted Clo. "I'm putting my life in your hands." + +"I've just my word to give," O'Reilly answered. "Look me in the face and +decide if it's worth taking." + +Clo looked him in the face, and said, "Yes! I'll tell you everything. +Please don't ask questions, or speak till I finish." + +Since the moment when he had been surprised by her voice at the +telephone, and she had claimed his help, O'Reilly had thought of +fantastic things, but they were commonplace compared to the story she +flung at his head. To make him understand, in ten minutes, why she had +to be at Krantz's Keller meant that she must spring all her facts upon +him. Already, without knowing how she had escaped at the Dietz, O'Reilly +had formed the opinion that she was a girl, not in a thousand but in +many thousands. Now, listening in silence, he heard her tell what she +had found, and what she had done, in Peterson's room. She spoke in +simple words. Yet O'Reilly saw the scene as if his eye were at a +keyhole; saw the girl realize that she was in the presence of a man not +only dead, but murdered; saw the battle between horror and courage as +she searched the room and the pockets of the corpse whose blood-stained +clothing was still warm. He heard the bell of the telephone. He followed +Clo into the room next door, and marvelled at the way in which she drew +information from "Chuff." When the taxi slowed down in Fourteenth +Street, she had but reached the point where she "made a dash for the +street." O'Reilly's brain had been busy. He was ready to give the advice +expected. + +Clo was talking still, while he paid the chauffeur and sent him away. As +they entered the restaurant below which lay Krantz's Keller, +breathlessly she brought her story to an end. "There! You know all I +know!" + +While they went downstairs side by side, step by step, O'Reilly gazed at +the girl's profile. "I'm going to fall in love with this strange child," +he thought. "I'm in love with her already." + +They penetrated the blue curtain of tobacco smoke which veiled the +cellar restaurant. People of all sorts were sitting at small, uncovered +wooden tables, which were painted green. There were long-haired +foreigners; there were rich American Jews. There were girls who looked +like "show girls" or chorus girls at least, companioned by fashionably +dressed and silly-faced boys. And all the company drank wine from oddly +shaped bottles, or beer out of stone or pewter "krugs." At the end of +the long, narrow room stood two huge casks, one on either side of a +small stage where three men in the costumes of Tyrolese peasants played +a zither, a 'cello, and a violin, for a gaily dressed boy and girl to +dance. + +There were a number of tables still unoccupied, and of these a few were +free. O'Reilly chose one close to the entrance. Seated there, he and Clo +could see everybody who came in or went out. If they themselves wished +to leave in a hurry it would be a convenient place. + +Clo could not even pretend to eat. She asked for strong coffee, and not +to be conspicuous O'Reilly ordered for himself beer, and food with an +odd, Russian sounding name. Having thus bought their right to the table, +he leaned across to the pale girl. + +"The time's come when I can tell you what I think," he said. "First, +what I think of you. You're the bravest person I ever met, and the most +loyal. If the woman for whose sake you've done this is worthy of her +friend, why, I'll be on her side from this night on." + +"Thank you," said Clo, meekly. She was very tired, but vitality flowed +through her newly at O'Reilly's words and look. "I don't deserve such a +compliment, but she deserves everything. If I've behaved badly to you, +it was for her." + +"I know," said O'Reilly. "But you weren't precisely 'bad.' You were, on +the whole, rather--wonderful. How did you get out of my room with the +only door locked on the inside?" + +"Oh!" the girl cried, surprised, "I thought you'd guess. I went along +the stone ledge under the window of your bedroom till I came to an open +window of a room in the next suite." + +"I thought of that, when it was too late; but it seemed incredible." + +"It wasn't as hard to do as I was afraid it would be," said Clo. "The +other window was open, the curtain was blowing out. I caught hold of it, +and got along somehow, through not looking down. Then in the room where +I went in, there was a man. He was at the door, and I scared him popping +in that way at the window, so he let me run past. That's all." Firmly +the girl closed the subject. + +"Let's talk about the pearls," she said. "Peterson was a wicked man. I +can't pretend to be sorry he's been killed. He was acting for others +higher up. I want to find Kit, not because I think she murdered him, but +because I'm sure she's got the pearls. Who called out 'Come in!' in a +man's voice, when Peterson was dead? We haven't got time to discuss the +whole business before half-past eleven. Here comes my coffee! It's going +to give me new life!" + +"You must need it. Try to nibble a few crumbs of this rusk," O'Reilly +advised. "I've been thinking hard since you told me how 'Chuff' 'phoned +to 'Pete,' and took you for Kit. As for the voice that called 'Come in', +the wall being thin, a man in the room close by might think the knock +was at his door. You're almost surely right about Kit being in the hotel +to watch Peterson. No doubt he was acting for men who have the power +to--trouble Mrs. Sands. Don't look at me like a wild cat! I shan't tell +what you don't want to hear, but there certainly are such men. Most +likely Peterson followed us into the Sands' apartment without being +noticed in the wild confusion of your fainting. He was there to get hold +of the thing he was blackmailing her for, the thing you went back to my +hotel to steal, and then repented stealing. Naturally Peterson didn't +find it, as it was still in my safe at the Dietz, but he might have seen +the pearls. The fellow must have been hiding close to Mrs. Sands and me, +when we talked, or he wouldn't have known that John Heron had wanted to +buy those pearls! He 'phoned, later, from the Westmorland to Heron, as +you must have guessed from what I 'phoned back. As for Kit, she was in +her room next door when he called Heron up, and heard about his having +pearls to sell; or else she went in to help him pack, and saw them. But +it strikes me that a young woman of her class wouldn't bash a man on the +head, and risk the Chair, for the righteous joy of turning a fortune +over to her pals. No, if she killed Peterson, she killed him because she +wanted the pearls for herself or a 'sweetheart.'" + +"There's Churn," said Clo. "He and Kit may be a 'case.' She may have +gone straight to him with the pearls." + +"'Churn's' possibly a nickname for that Lorenz Czerny, whose name you +found written on a visiting card," O'Reilly said. "What with that card, +and the memorandum, and Kit's bag, we ought to get on to the track of +the gang. I'm on Mrs. Sands' side now. But I know a private detective +who's worked for clients of mine. He's close as an oyster, and true as a +compass. Chuff may keep his appointment, or he may not. If the real +Kit's turned up and told the truth, perhaps he won't dare, for fear of a +trap. Still, he may, if he's got pluck, and a good disguise--or if the +police have nothing 'on' him. The gang won't want the false Kit to get +away with what she knows if the real one's true to them. And they'll be +eager to see whom they're up against. That's why I should like to have +Denham--the detective--on the spot." + +"Would that be the best way to get the pearls?" asked Clo. + +"Can you suggest a better one?" + +"Not on the spur of the moment." + +"It's on the spur of the moment we must decide." + +"Well--'phone Denham." + +"I will," said O'Reilly. "I think I ought to get him now unless he's on +some job. I'll be back in a few minutes. There's no danger of serious +trouble for you here." + +"I'm used to taking care of myself," said Clo. The hot, strong coffee +had brought a faint colour to her face, and she looked up with one of +those "cheeky" grins of hers, such as his "cousin" had given him at the +Dietz. O'Reilly went away bewitched with the creature, absorbed in her. +She had done so much for the love of a woman. What would she do for love +of a man? + +He had to go upstairs to the telephone, it seemed, at Krantz's. Then the +line was busy. He was obliged to wait. + +Meanwhile a tall girl, in a bright pink cloak over a pink dress, hurried +through the gloomy restaurant. She paused only to glance at a clock on +the wall, and then ran downstairs to the "Keller." + + + + +XXVI + +THE GIRL IN PINK + + +Clo sat watching the crowd. She had removed her veil, and the long, +brown cloak lent by Beverley. The latter she had folded, and was sitting +upon it. + +It was then, when most of the tables were taken, and when a young tenor +with a good voice had replaced the Italian peasants, that the girl in +pink walked in. Clo sat with her face to the entrance, and happened to +be looking that way. At sight of the girl, who came in alone, it was all +she could do to sit still. She felt the blood stream to her face, and +taking up the empty coffee cup, pretended to drink. + +"Gracious, why did I never think of her!" she wondered. For this was the +girl who had got out of the elevator at the Westmorland, and had been +stared at by the men, when Clo and Beverley descended the stairs from +Peterson's room. Would there have been time after they had turned their +backs for Kit to get out of the brown trunk (if she'd been in it!), +fasten the lid, and descend to the lift while the two women went down +the six flights of stairs? + +Yes, there would have been time. Clo was thankful that she had disposed +of her veil, and was sitting on the cloak. Here at Krantz's she was only +a girl in a white dress, with a brown toque which at the Westmorland had +been hidden with a veil. + +There were two or three tables still disengaged, but the one with the +best view of the stage was the one nearest Clo. The girl in pink tripped +to it, without hesitation, stood for a minute staring at the singer, and +sat down. Clo watched her. She could not be certain, but she thought the +girl had caught the eye of the singer and had made him a sign. + +Not only had he a good voice, but he was good to look at, dark and +rather "dashing," "almost like a second-hand gentleman," as Clo said to +herself. His song pleased the audience, who clapped violently, demanding +another. But the young man smiled, threw out his hands, shrugged, +touched his throat, and bowed himself off the stage. By this time the +girl in pink had ordered a bottle of wine which, to judge by the loving +care of the waiter, must have been rare and expensive. + +The singer sat down with his back to Clo, his companion at his side. +Thus they were able to draw close, and talk without much fear of being +overheard. + +"Good Lord, Churn, I thought I'd missed you," were the first words Clo +caught. As the girl spoke she flung a quick glance toward her little +neighbour at the next table, but Clo had never looked so child-like. "I +went to the Riche, and you'd gone," Kit continued. "To the Western; too +late. Gosh! how I hiked for this place! I don't know what I'd done if +I'd lost you!" + +"Vot's de row?" Churn asked cheerfully, speaking with a slight and +rather agreeable foreign accent. He poured himself a tumblerful of the +deep-coloured red wine, and drank as if it were water. + +"Say, Churn, a big thing's happened. I can't tell you here." + +"You want I take you to de hotel?" + +"No! I'm never goin' back there. And I can't go to my own digs either. +I'll explain by and by. Could you take me home with you?" + +"No, Jake'll be comin' in." + +"Well, let's go to Chuff's. We must be somewhere! I've got a thing to +show you, Churn. If there's two rooms free in the house we'll take +'em--or, no, better take one. You'll see why we must be together when +you know. Say, here's money to pay the wine--looks better for you than +me. Then we'll be off." + +Clo gazed at the door. No O'Reilly yet. But if this pair went she would +have to go, too. She mustn't lose them! + +Churn beckoned a waiter with a ten-dollar bill thrust into his hand by +Kit. The waiter came; but he had to get change. In Clo's lap, hidden +under her napkin, was the bag she had found in Kit's room. Stealthily +she opened it and took out a stub of pencil she had noticed among the +contents. On the table lay a programme of the evening's entertainment. +Neither she nor O'Reilly had glanced at it; but now the girl eagerly +examined the list. Among the names was that of "Lorenz Czerny, Tenor"; +and Clo underlined it with the pencil. Beneath, on the margin, she +scrawled: "Kit's come and has been talking to him. They're going away. I +must follow. I leave you all materials for the search--except the pearl. +I keep that. Don't worry about me. I'll take care of myself." + +Clo had plenty of money, supplied by Beverley, so a five-dollar bill was +laid conspicuously on the crumbs of rusk. + +Kit and Churn were on their feet. The waiter had given change, and Churn +was counting it out. Both stood with their backs to Clo. Clo slipped the +programme into the bead bag and the bead bag into a pocket of Beverley's +brown silk coat, on which she had been sitting. She then whisked the +folded garment from her own chair on to O'Reilly's, and covered it with +his napkin. + +"I hope to goodness I'll meet him on the way up," she thought, "or +before I get out of the restaurant above. I daren't take the cloak where +she might see it. Besides, he must have the bag and memorandum." + +Churn gave the waiter a fifty-cent piece, and followed Kit, who had +started. Neither looked back; and Clo beckoned the waiter. "I've an +engagement," she said, "and can't wait longer for the gentleman I came +with. He's upstairs telephoning. You tell him I've paid. Never mind the +change. I'm leaving my coat for the gentleman to bring home. Can I trust +you to be sure and give it to him?" + +"You can, miss," said the man. "I'll take charge of it myself." + +He looked trustworthy as well as grateful. Kit and Churn were winding +their way among the tables. Clo pushed after them. O'Reilly was not on +the stairs, nor was he visible in the dull restaurant above. He had the +all-important envelope, it was true, and she could not guess who had +returned it in a way to make him suppose it came from her. O'Reilly was, +however, an honourable man, and he had promised to be "on Mrs. Sands' +side." In the circumstances she saw only one course, and regretfully, +even fearfully, took it. When Kit and Churn walked out into the street +she walked after them, a few paces behind. + +Clo had been gone precisely four minutes when O'Reilly tore downstairs +burning to apologize and explain. Mrs. Denham had said that her husband +was out, but she knew where he was, and would 'phone; if +he--O'Reilly--would hold the line she'd have an answer "in no time." +Presently he had been rewarded by "getting" Denham, who, on hearing that +he was urgently wanted, promised to cut short some work he was doing +late at the office, and taxi to Krantz's. This was good news, and +O'Reilly was sure Clo would think it had been worth waiting for. He +could not believe his eyes when he saw the deserted table. What could +have happened to the girl? + +He stood forlornly for a moment, staring round the room. As his eyes +searched vainly, the waiter who had served him came hurrying up. + +"The young lady's gone, sare. She had to go--very sorry. She left me dis +to give you when you come back. She pay de bill, sare, but I keep de +table for you. You not finish your supper." + +O'Reilly had a stab of violent resentment against Clo. But the thought +had only to pass through his brain to be rejected. The girl was a +strange girl, audacious and unscrupulous in her loyalty to Mrs. Sands; +but she could not have told her story in a way to impress its truth upon +him unless she had been sincere. + +"The young lady didn't give you any other message?" he asked. + +"No, sare. She was in much hurry. But I see her mark on a piece of +paper," the waiter replied. "Maybe she write you a note." + +O'Reilly reflected. Which should he do, look for a message in the pocket +of the coat Clo had left, or dash upstairs and find out which way she +had gone? It was almost certain that he would now gain nothing by the +latter course. + +O'Reilly sat down at the table, in the chair where he had sat before. He +found the one pocket in the brown coat, and in that pocket Kit's jet and +steel bag. There was nothing else there, so he opened the bag cautiously +in case some of Kit's friends had arrived. As he did so, the folded +programme dropped out. + + + + +XXVII + +WHEN BEVERLEY CAME HOME + + +When Clo had shut the taxi door almost in Beverley's face, and had given +the chauffeur orders to drive on, she had said to herself, "Angel will +be so surprised she won't know what to do for a minute. And by the time +she pulls herself together, she'll realize it's too late to stop me." + +The girl had judged well. Beverley shrank back from the slammed door +with a jump of the nerves. Then she guessed what Clo meant to do. She +was in the act of tapping to stop the chauffeur, and tell him to turn, +when the question seemed to ask itself aloud in her brain, "What good +will it do for you to go back?" + +Before she could reach Clo, if she returned to the hotel now, the girl +would have learned the secret of Peterson's room. When she saw what +Beverley had seen, she would know that there was nothing to be done with +a dead man. She would slip away to avoid being mixed up in the business +of the murder. She would not risk being caught. The girl was too +sensible, and she had plenty of money as well as brains. She had shown +herself equal to desperate emergencies. She would be equal to this. She +was so quick-witted that she would know what to do, and how to do it. +Beverley let the chauffeur drive on. He went to the corner where he had +been hailed by his two passengers. There he stopped, and Beverley got +out. She paid him; and making a pretence of examining her change in the +light of a street lamp, stood still until the taxi had turned and shot +out of sight. Then, with the bag of jewels which Clo had tossed into her +lap, she walked home. Her latch-key opened the door of the flat, she +entered her boudoir, and fell into a chair, sitting as still as the dead +Peterson had sat. It was not much past ten o'clock. + +Five minutes later she took off hat and cloak, and peeped into her +bedroom to see if her maid were there. But the room was empty, and she +put away the gray mantle and toque where she had found them. She did not +forget to toss carelessly upon her bed the hat she had worn in the +afternoon, and a pair of white gloves; then she rang for her maid who +came almost at once. She had gone out, Beverley explained quietly, to +help Miss Riley transact a little matter of business. + +It was eleven-thirty when Leontine bade her mistress good-night and +softly closed the bedroom door. She had noticed nothing strange in the +manner of Madame, except an unusual lack of vitality. + +Left alone, Beverley opened the door of the big, bare room. "Clo," she +called softly. + +No answer. She switched on the light. No one was there, and Beverley +hurried on to the little room beyond, which had been Sister Lake's. It, +too, was empty. Something grave, perhaps terrible, had detained the +girl. + +"She won't come--she won't come at all." Beverley said aloud. "What +shall I do?" She could not abandon the fragile child who loved her, who +had stood by her with wonderful strength and courage throughout this +dreadful day. Yet what was there she could do? + +Roger returned about one o'clock. He moved quietly, as if in order not +to disturb his wife, but she heard the cautious closing of his door. She +did not try or wish to sleep, but lay on her bed, waiting for day. + +After six o'clock Beverley could lie still no longer. She stole into her +bathroom, and bathed in cold water. But she felt as utterly spent after +her bath as before. + +This morning she did penance by putting on a tailor-made, white linen +suit, of a slightly severe cut, and made her toilet without ringing for +Leontine. She decided to breakfast at the customary hour and in the +customary place, but she did not expect to be joined by Roger. She was +still in her bedroom, fastening a brooch, when he tapped at her door. + +"Come in!" she cried, eager for the meeting, yet sick with fear. Roger +came in, fully dressed, looking cool and well groomed. To Beverley's sad +heart it seemed that he had never been so handsome--or so hard. + +"Good morning," he said, as he might have spoken to any friend. "I heard +you stirring about, so I thought I might knock. Are you going out +early?" as his eyes wandered over her dress. + +"You mean because I'm dressed? No, I didn't think of it. I couldn't +sleep. The night was hot, and the heat was on my nerves, I suppose, so I +got up at six. I hope I didn't disturb you, Roger?" + +"Not at all," he politely replied. "I've some business which will take +me out half an hour sooner than usual. I suppose they can give us +breakfast in time for that? Coffee and toast and grape fruit can't take +long to make ready?" + +"I'll ring for breakfast. I didn't know if----" + +"Didn't know--what?" he caught up her sentence as it broke. + +"Oh, nothing--important," she excused herself. Yet she was sure he knew +what had stopped her short of saying that she didn't know if he would +breakfast with her in the boudoir. + +"Well, I daresay Johnson has put the newspapers in their place by this +time," Roger said, ignoring her embarrassment. "I'll have a look, to +save time. You'll come when you're ready? I've a suggestion to make that +I think you'll like." + +He spoke pleasantly, not at all as if he had a grudge against his wife. +Many women would have been satisfied with such a manner; but Beverley +was not of the "many women," and Roger had never been like other, +ordinary husbands. For the first morning since that day in Chicago when +he had asked her to be his wife, they had not kissed. + +"It will always be like this from now on," she told herself. "I hope I +shall die. I can't live without his love, and go on seeing him every +day!" + +Roger had not mentioned Clo, and Beverley held her peace. She thought it +would be best to wait and see what the newspapers said. At the end of +ten minutes, as the breakfast tray was being placed on the lace table +cover, she strolled into the boudoir. Roger hardly looked up, feigning +to be deeply interested in his paper. On other mornings--the servant +being out of the room--he would have sprung from his chair to place +hers, and perhaps to kiss the long braid of her golden brown hair, or +the back of her white neck as it showed under her fetching little cap. + +"Any exciting news?" she asked in a casual tone, as she sat down--the +sort of tone which other wives perhaps use to other husbands. + +"Nothing that interests us specially," Roger answered. "A rather sordid +murder, at a third-rate hotel; there's a mystery, of course." + +"What hotel?" Beverley ventured to ask, pouring coffee with a hand that +would shake. + +"One I never heard of before. Let me see, what's the name? Oh, the +'Westmorland.' You'll not be interested. Let's get to the thing I want +to talk about. Can you guess what it is?" + +Beverley shook her head. "I am a bad guesser." + +"It's partly about your pearls. By the by, was the pearl-stringer +satisfactory?" + +"Oh, quite," Beverley murmured, sipping her coffee. + +"I'm glad she made a good job. The rope looks as fine as if no accident +had happened, I suppose?" + +"It's a--wonderful rope," his wife managed to reply. + +"I imagined you'd be wearing your gewgaws for breakfast this morning +just to show they were all right!" Roger's eyes smiled coolly into hers. +It was a cruel smile. + +"A rope of pearls at breakfast--on a tailor gown of linen--and a queen's +pearls at that! What bad taste! I shall wear these splendours only on +the greatest occasions." + +"Well, I've arranged a great occasion," said Roger. "That's principally +what I want to talk about. I'd like you to send out invitations for a +house party and a big dinner and dance directly after we're settled in +the Newport cottage. And I'd like to move there sooner than we meant. +I've decided to take a few weeks' holiday. We'll both be better out of +the city." + +"Oh, yes!" Beverley agreed. + +"And I want you to do a thing to please me. Wear the queen's +pearls--your pearls--on the night of the dinner and dance." + + + + +XXVIII + +MR. JONES OF PEORIA + + +O'Reilly had only just finished reading Clo's note, had folded it up, +and put it in his pocket when he was joined by a man at whom, for a +second, he stared as at a stranger. Then a slight contraction of the +newcomer's eyelid and a twinkle in his eye enlightened Justin. + +"Well, this is good, meeting you!" exploded a jolly voice. "I hoped you +hadn't forgotten poor old Dick Jones, though it's a long time since you +blew out our way to Peoria. I'm here in little old New York, seeing the +sights." + +"Why, of course, I remember you very well, Mr. Jones," said O'Reilly. +"Sit down at my table, do. What'll you have, in memory of old times?" + +As he spoke, he took in the extraordinary changes Mr. William J. Denham +had made in his personal appearance. Denham was a slender, youngish man, +neat and dapper, with light brown hair, a smooth face, and pale skin. +Jones had reddish, rumpled eye-brows, puffy pink lids, and large, roving +eyes behind convex glasses. His hair was also red and rumpled, and +though he was not enormously stout, he was clumsily built, with a +decided paunch. + +When he had sat down at O'Reilly's table, the absence of near neighbours +and the momentary inattention of waiters gave the two men a chance to +speak freely. "You sent a hurry call. Something up at Krantz's this +peaceful Sabbath?" + +"There's more up than I want to come out," said O'Reilly. "Things have +changed since I 'phoned, but there's more need of you than ever. The +girl I wanted to help was with me. While I talked to you, she +disappeared...." + +"Disappeared!" + +"Yes. I couldn't follow, because when I knew what had happened it was +too late to get on her track; otherwise you'd have found me flown. I'd +have sacrificed you for her, if there'd been even a sporting chance. But +I didn't see one. Maybe you will, when I put you wise: or somebody may +show up whose face will give you a tip. I'll tell you what I +know--except the name of a lady which mustn't come into the business +even with discretion incarnate like you." + +"Reservations often spoil jobs," said Denham. + +"Mine won't." + +The coming of a waiter broke the conversation. + +"Anybody interesting here?" asked Justin, when the waiter had gone. + +"No familiar faces. But there may be, later." + +O'Reilly shook his head. "It's a quarter to twelve. The man or men who +made an appointment--not with me; with the girl who's gone--should have +turned up at eleven-thirty." + +"If they're sure of themselves--sure their faces aren't known--they're +probably here," remarked Denham. "But out with your story. A lot may +hang on that." + +"A lot does," said O'Reilly; and told it. He omitted no detail given by +Clo except such as led too close to Mrs. Sands. O'Reilly hardly +disguised the fact that the crime and its punishment were of slight +importance to him compared with the finding of Clo Riley. "I don't want +her mixed up in this murder business," he finished, "and she doesn't +want to be mixed up in it, not for her own sake, but because of the +woman she's protecting. You could get the name of that woman, but I ask +you not to concern yourself with it." + +"Right you are," Denham reassured him. "I've got enough to do without +meddling in other folks' business. The lady outside the case doesn't +exist. But as for 'Churn' being Lorenz Czerny, it doesn't go without +saying that we shall spot Chuff and Jake, and the rest of the gang +through him. That will depend on himself, and his Moll--Kit. I wouldn't +mind offering your young lady a good place and good pay when this mix-up +comes to an end." + +"I do not believe she'll be looking for work," said O'Reilly. + +"This Kit must be pretty sharp, too. It looks as if Churn was her +'steady.' If she did the job at the Westmorland, it was to set him and +her up in housekeeping, later on, well away from Chuff and Co. Looks as +if Kit had been used for a catspaw, and maybe hadn't got enough out of +the job for herself. Suddenly she saw a whole dazzling lot. I can't get +on to who this Kit is yet. But maybe I will. Your little friend does +shoot quick--and low." + +"She does," said O'Reilly. "But she doesn't hit below the belt." + +"Folks like Kit and Churn and Chuff haven't got belts," said Denham. + +O'Reilly laughed again. But he wanted Clo. She was made for him--the +demon, the darling, the only girl he had ever seriously desired. He +hadn't known that she existed till to-night, when she'd begun their +acquaintance by tricking and stealing from him. Though he might laugh, +he wouldn't know a happy moment till she was safe. For an instant he +forgot Denham and the business in hand. "I think she likes me," he told +himself. "I'll make her like me a lot more when I get half a chance." + +"That couple will hide," Denham was saying. "Churn may send word to +Krantz that he can't sing; he'll say he's sick. But I shan't do any such +thing as put Krantz wise that his tenor is wanted. Krantz is a fox. Our +hope is in Miss Riley." + +"You'll come to the Dietz, won't you?" asked O'Reilly. + +"Yes," said the detective, finishing his cool beer. "I'll come. But I +haven't got much hope from what may be in that bead bag. People who have +things to hide, hide 'em better than in bags. However, we'll see." When +Justin had paid for Denham's drink, they went, with the bead bag in the +pocket of Clo's brown cloak hanging over O'Reilly's arm. It was after +midnight. + + + + +XXIX + +ACCORDING TO THE MORNING PAPERS + + +Roger had talked of nothing but his plan for the Newport house-warming, +after starting the subject; and he had told Beverley that they ought to +be able to move in a week. She must make everything right about the +servants: he would see to outside arrangements. And this "big party" +could take place in a fortnight. It was ostentatious sending out +invitations longer in advance. They must make a "splash"--worthy of the +house--and the pearls. Beverley must think up something original in the +way of entertainment--a surprise. And as he talked it seemed to the girl +that his eyes never left her face. Beverley promised to move to Newport +when Roger wished. She promised to write the invitations, and--she +promised to wear the queen's pearls. + +At last Roger went, without having alluded to Clodagh Riley. Whether +this were deliberate, or careless, Beverley could not guess. But she was +thankful. + +The instant Roger had gone Beverley seized the paper he had dropped, and +found what she wanted. "Mysterious Murder at Hotel Westmorland" was the +heading at the top of a column on the first page. She sat down and read +the whole report. + +That day was among the most terrible of Beverley's chequered life. She +had had several engagements, but she telephoned to put them off. Not for +anything would she have left the house, for she hoped to have a message +from Clo. She feared to hear also from one whom Peterson served, but it +was best that she should be at home if such a message arrived. + +"Have they kept their word? Have they killed Stephen because I didn't +send back the papers?" she constantly asked herself. "What will they do +next? Will they advertise again in the newspapers? Will they telephone? +Will they send another man, now Peterson is dead? Or if not, how will +they reach me? Surely they won't leave me in peace for long!" + +The day passed with outward monotony. It was only within herself that +each moment was different from every other. + +When evening came at last, nothing had happened, yet Beverley's nerves +were jarred as if by a succession of shocks. As Leontine dressed her for +dinner, a sharp tap at the door made her jump and cry out. "A +special-delivery letter for me, Madame," announced the Frenchwoman. +"Have I Madame's permission? It is strange I do not know the hand. It is +but a common yellow envelope, addressed in pencil, to Mademoiselle +Leontine Rossignol--perhaps from someone who begs. Never have I received +a letter by special delivery!" + +"You'd better open it," said Beverley, relieved that the letter was not +for her. + +"Rossignol is so odd a name, Madame, that everyone remembers, because it +means nightingale," said Leontine, gingerly tearing off an end of the +flimsy yellow envelope. + +Then, suddenly she cried out. "But Madame, the letter is from +Mademoiselle Riley! I do not see why she writes to me. I understand +nothing of what she says. Will Madame read?" + +Hiding eagerness, Beverley took the half sheet of commercial paper. + +The letter began: + + DEAR LEONTINE: + + I am safe in my new home, and there's no need to worry. I am + picking up all that I have lost. I hope to call on you before long + and show what good progress I have made. With grateful messages for + Madame, from her devoted little servant, and kind remembrance to + you--I am, faithfully yours, + + Clodagh Riley. + + P.S.--If possible I should like Mr. O'R. to hear that I am doing + well. He has been kind since you saw me last. + +There was no date and no address on this letter, which filled only one +page. + +Beverley's bewilderment passed as she studied the letter. Clo's +underlying motives came to the surface with a flash. + +"I suppose," she explained quietly, "that Mademoiselle fancied it would +be a liberty to write to me. I'm glad to hear from her so soon. As the +letter is really for me, perhaps I'd better keep it." + +"Please do, madame," Leontine urged, again attacking the tiny hooks +which fastened her mistress's dinner dress. "I noticed that Mademoiselle +did not put the number of the house or street where she is staying. But, +of course, Madame will know both." + +"Of course," echoed Beverley. She guessed that Leontine must be consumed +with curiosity as to Clo's disappearance and the departure of Sister +Lake. + +When Leontine had hooked the last hook Beverley went to the boudoir. +There she sat down with Clo's cryptic message, praying that Roger might +not come till she had unravelled it. + +But, after all, the meaning of one sentence after another sprang quickly +to her eyes. She had realized at once that Clo wrote to Leontine because +she dared not use the name of Mrs. Sands. This suggested that she was in +a house where the name of Sands was not unknown. Now, concentrating upon +the queer letter, Beverley understood each veiled hint. Clo wished her +not to "worry." Clo was "picking up all she had lost." Clo "hoped to +call before long, and show what good progress" she had made. All this +could have only one meaning. And how like Clo, to have treasured in some +brain-cell Leontine's queer name of "Rossignol"! + +She had written nothing to waken suspicion; and as no house, no street, +was mentioned, there need be no dread of discovery for guilty +consciences. Beverley judged that O'Reilly's name as well as Roger's +might be known to someone near to Clo. Evidently she was afraid to send +a letter to Justin O'Reilly. But the end of the postscript was amazing. +O'Reilly had been kind to Clo! + +"She went to see him again!" was the thought in Beverley's mind. "Then, +perhaps, she didn't go back to the Westmorland. What can 'kind' mean, +unless he's promised to help instead of hurt us?" + +But she must find out what had happened last between O'Reilly and Clo. +How should she communicate with him? Should she send a note by district +messenger to the Dietz? Or--should she telephone, before Roger came, and +learn all that she wished to know without delay? Quickly she decided +upon this bolder course. She called up O'Reilly's hotel, and soon heard +his "Hello!" + +"I'm Mrs. Sands," she explained. "I've a letter from Clo. She sends you +a message." + +The voice from the Dietz had sounded indifferent. It was so no longer. + +"What news?" O'Reilly asked. "Tell me everything." + +She told him, and read Clo's letter to Leontine distinctly, that he +might miss no word. "I understand why it might be dangerous to put an +address, or to write to you or me," Beverley added. "But it's frightful +not to know where she is. Explain what you can quickly, because--I'm +expecting someone." + +"Peterson stole your pearls," O'Reilly answered. "He 'phoned Heron and +offered to sell them. He must have been hiding in your room and +overheard our talk. Later, I answered him for Heron. Miss Riley was in +Peterson's room then, and she and I got in touch. She asked through the +'phone if I'd help. I said 'Yes,' and she told me to come with a taxi. I +picked her up outside the hotel, and took her where she wanted to go: a +restaurant, Krantz's Keller. When I'd heard what she had to say I +proposed to employ a private detective. Don't worry; he's absolutely +loyal, and I'm on your side, after all, Mrs. Sands--I may as well +confess it's for Miss Riley's sake. She repented stealing the papers +from me, you know, and sent them back in the envelope just as they +were----" + +"Clo sent you the papers! You're mistaken. I know she didn't send them," +Beverley cried. She had forgotten her fear of being overheard, forgotten +everything, but the sound of a door closing caused her to start. It was +a strange sound just then, because both doors had already been shut when +she went to the telephone, the door leading into her bedroom, the door +into the hall, and she had heard neither open since. Yet she could not +be mistaken. Somebody had closed one of those doors and must previously +have opened it. + +Sick with fear, Beverley dropped the receiver and ran to look into the +hall. No one was there. She flew to the door of her bedroom and peeped +in. The room was empty. She rang for Johnson, who appeared at once. + +"Has Mr. Sands come in?" she asked. + +"I think not, Madam," the butler replied. + +"Go and see. Search everywhere." + +She did not move while the man was away. + +"Mr. Sands is not in the house, Madam," Johnson solemnly announced. + +"Thank you!" Beverley said. Yet she was not relieved. Something told her +that it was Roger who had shut the door. + + + + +XXX + +WHAT CLO DID WITH A KNIFE + + +When Kit and Churn left Krantz's Keller they walked fast along +Fourteenth Street till they came to Sixth Avenue. There they appeared to +hesitate, as if they could not decide whether to go up or down town. +Clo, as close behind them as she dared to venture, guessed instantly +that, until now, they had not entirely made up their minds which of +several hiding-places it would be safest for them to seek. + +Judging by their linked arms, and the nearness of the two heads, their +conversation was absorbing. They stopped at the corner, and Clo stopped +also. Presently the pair resolved on going down toward Thirteenth +Street. Clo went after them. They walked for several blocks; and the +girl following always glanced at the number of each street she passed. +There had been an accident to a taxi, however, in the neighbourhood of +Eleventh Street, and a crowd had collected. In this crowd Clo nearly +lost the quarry. She had a moment of despair, then saw the skirt of Kit +in the distance. No longer was she wearing a pink cloak, but a white +one. She must have had a chance to turn it wrong side out! + +So excited was Clo that she forgot to notice the streets. Whether the +couple turned off the Avenue into Tenth, or Ninth, or Eighth, she was +not sure. She was certain only that she was on their track. Then +followed a chase across town. In this, the girl finally lost her head a +little, but when it seemed that she could drag herself no further, Kit +and Churn stopped in front of a house, and rang the bell. + +"Neither of them lives there, or there'd be a latch-key!" Clo thought, +hovering on the other side of the street. + +It was some time before the two were let in; but after a delay of four +or five minutes a woman opened the door. A dim gas light shone from the +hall or lobby, and Clo's impression was of a dark brown face, the face +of a negress. There was a short discussion; then the woman nodded, +stepping aside to let Kit and Churn pass. An instant later the door shut +them in. + +Clo stood gazing at the house. It was one in a row of old-fashioned, +shabby brick buildings, four storeys in height. A light showed in the +basement, but other windows were black. Suddenly, as Clo watched, a +yellow gleam flashed in a fourth-storey room but at the same moment a +man stepped to the window and pulled down a dark blind. Clo thought that +this man was Churn. + +"They're going to stay," she argued; and crossing the street at a +distance from the house, the girl looked at it with interest. There was +no street lamp near, and she could not see the number; but there was a +small plaque at the side of the door, and Clo tripped up the steps to +read it. Joy, the place was a boarding house! + +The pair having mounted to the fourth storey, Clo thought she might +venture to ring. She pulled an old-fashioned bell, and her heart thumped +in her breast as the shrill sound jingled through the house. + +"I must have some tale to tell--why I'm here so late, wanting a room," +she reflected. + +The door was opened by the woman who had admitted Kit and Churn. Not +only was she black, but she was fat and slovenly. Staring at the +new-comer, she exclaimed with a mouth full of gum: + +"Say, is you another fren' o' Mr. Cheffinsky?" + +"Chuff!" was the password that flashed through Clo's brain. "This is +where he lives!" She was triumphant. + +"I don't know anything about Mr. Cheffinsky," she replied, "but I'm in a +scrape, and a friend of mine once recommended me to this house. I saw +some people come in, and a light. It's still a boarding-house, isn't +it?" + +"It ain't no foundlin' orphant asylum." + +"I don't ask for charity. I've got money to pay my board. But I don't +want an expensive room. One at the top of the house will do." + +"Say, it's a real funny time o' night for a young girl like you to go +lookin' foh a home to lay her haid," remarked the negress. "But you can +step in the hall. I'll call Mis' MacMahon. She's the lady o' the house. +We've got a room upstahs, but I don't know whethah she'll let you have +it." + +She allowed Clo to enter, and left the girl standing as she descended +the basement stairs. + +"'MacMahon' sounds hopeful!" Clo thought. The girl had lodged drearily +in New York, but she had never been in a house as dreary as this. + +Mrs. MacMahon's look was less inspiring than her name. She was of the +big-jowled type; a grim woman of middle age; and her manner suggested +suspicion. But Clo began to speak first, with her best brogue, which she +could use, when needed, with great effect. + +"I beg your pardon, ma'am, for intruding on ye at this time of the +night," said the girl in her creamiest voice, with a child-like smile, +"but the lady I'm maid for and me had a quarrel about a young man, and +rather than give him up, I just walked away from the house, without +waitin' to pack my things. I've walked till I'm played out! I tould yer +maid a friend o' mine had spoken o' Mrs. MacMahon's place and I didn't +forget. I'll pay a week in advance if you'll take me in." + +Whether Mrs. MacMahon believed these out-pourings was an open question, +but her face softened slightly at sound of the brogue. + +"Irish, are you!" she said. + +"Yes, County Cork, and not over since very long," returned the girl. + +"I'm from County Cork, me and me dead husband both," volunteered the +woman. "I've been in New York these twelve years. Violet says you ast +for a top-floor room?" + +"I did that," said Clo. + +"Well, a top-floor room is the only wan I've got vacant. How long would +ye be wanting it for?" + +"Oh, a few days, and maybe more." + +"You can come and have a look. I don't boast of the room. It's last +choice. I charge seven dollars with board." + +"I don't mind seven dollars," said Clo, and followed her hostess up +flight after flight of dimly lighted stairs. They were covered with +oilcloth, and the hall smelled of escaping gas, but the girl was almost +happy. The place was not attractive, but it seemed decent enough. + +"It's a hall room, but a front one," explained Mrs. MacMahon, panting, +as they reached the top of the house. Clo was enchanted to hear this, +for it meant that the room must adjoin the one where Churn had pulled +down the blind. She wondered if Churn were married to Kit. Perhaps she +would find out by and by. + +"There's a husband and wife come into the double room next," Mrs. +MacMahon went on, when she had shown Clo her proposed quarters. "The +wall's kind of thin, for this room was part of the other once, but +they're a quiet couple, I guess: and if you're quiet, too, you won't +trouble each other. They're friends of a gentleman boarder we've had for +some time, and they've been here to call on him, though they've never +stayed before. I want 'em to be comfortable, so stir around as little as +you can in the morning. I guess they're the kind that lies late in bed." + +"I feel more as if I'd like to lie in bed all day!" sighed Clo. + +"Well, sleep as much as you like. But don't be scared if ye hear folks +movin' later on to-night. The friend of this couple is out, but he may +come home and want to see 'em." + +Clo paid seven dollars in advance for the room, and took pains to show +that she had plenty of money. She begged also to buy or borrow a clean +nightgown, and suggested that, if there were a new toothbrush in the +house, she would be glad to have it. Mrs. MacMahon laughed. A nightgown +she could lend, but as for a toothbrush, there wouldn't be one this side +of the nearest drugstore. Miss Ryan (the name Clo gave) must wait till +next day. + +"Well, anyhow, maybe you've a bit you'll give me to eat!" the new +boarder pleaded. "I'm that hungry I could bite off the door-knob! I'll +pay extra, of course--this time of night. And your coloured +woman--Violet, isn't she?--shall have a couple of dimes for bringing up +the food." + +Mrs. MacMahon softened and asked what food her guest desired. Clo +desired nothing so much as a knife, and made a bid to secure one by +asking for meat. "Any old kind!--and some bread and milk. I'll give +fifty cents--" (she watched the woman's eye)--"I mean, a dollar for my +supper." + +When Mrs. MacMahon had gone the girl held her breath to listen. Yes, the +wall was thin! She could hear Kit and Churn talking in an ordinary tone, +but she could catch few words, even when she laid her ear against the +dusty paper. When the voices sank low, they reached her only in an +indistinct rumble. + +She guessed that the tiny room was separated from the larger one by a +partition of laths and plaster, covered on each side with flimsy wall +paper. She could feel as well as hear someone walking up and down, up +and down, in the next room! No doubt it was Churn. Now and then he would +pause. A piece of furniture would creak; then he would jump up, to begin +walking again. + +Presently Violet appeared, a coarse nightgown hanging over her arm, a +plate of bread and ham on a napkinless tray, and glass of bluish milk. +Clo gave the woman twenty cents, and promised the same sum if her +breakfast were brought upstairs. Violet agreed to this bargain, which +was well for the girl. She would have starved rather than desert her +room long enough to eat while Churn and Kit remained in their quarters. +She surmised that they would not often go out. + +Clo had told the truth in pleading hunger, but when she was alone and +had locked her door, she took from the tray only the steel knife and +fork which lay beside the plate. Having pushed the cot bed away from the +wall, she sat down on the floor, Turk fashion. Choosing a spot which +would be invisible with the bed in place, she waited till Churn was +inclined to walk. Then she began delicately to dig at the plaster with +her extemporized tools. Whenever Churn stopped, she stopped also, lest +the rat-like noise should reach alert ears in the next room. For a long +time she toiled, cautiously, slowly, gathering up bits of paper and +plaster that fell, and collecting them in her lap. It was a tedious +task, but not difficult. In less than an hour she had made--practically +without noise--a hole the size of a silver dollar. It went through to +the lathes; beyond that barrier her tools were of no avail. She needed a +thin, sharp instrument like a hat-pin, to push between the slats of +wood. A tiny hole would suffice. But she had no hat-pin in the +close-fitting toque lent by Beverley. Her own was now a souvenir in +O'Reilly's possession. + +She tried hair-pins, but they bent, one after another. Then she searched +for a nail, and found one at last, stuck in the wall, supporting a small +mirror. Carefully she deposited this upon the bed (it wouldn't do to +break a looking glass!) and set to work once more. At the end of twenty +minutes' scratching, she felt resistance cease before the nail-point. +Hastily she withdrew it, lest it should pierce too far; and stretched on +the floor she listened with her ear to the aperture on her side of the +wall. + + + + +XXXI + +THE NINE DAYS + + +"I wish Chuff would come, and get it over!" she heard Churn sigh aloud, +in his sweet, foreign-sounding voice. + +"I wonder why he went out?" said Kit. "He ought to have been home all +evening. He was expecting Pete on business, you know." + +"Can he have got onto de reason dat fellah Pete didn't come?" + +"No, no," Kit answered. "I've told you a dozen times no! He wouldn't +have gone to the Westmorland. Pete had to call on him. But there must +have been something important to take Chuff out." + +"Vat vas de plan?" + +"Oh, what does it matter? To-night's changed everything for me, and you, +too. You are goin' to stand by me, aren't you, Churn, through thick and +thin?" + +"You bettcha life! For de whole of vot I'm vorth!" + +Kit's tone changed. She chuckled. "You may be worth a lot. You've +married a rich heiress. See?" + +"Sh, girl! If Chuff comes spyin' on us we don't vant him to hear dat +word 'married.' He'd only laugh--or vorse." + +"All right! But he ain't our master any more. We can do without him." + +"Maybe he von't tink he can do vidout us." + +"He'll _have_ to, when we get something good on the pearls. And say, I +never thought you could kill any one and feel no more than I do now. +Churn, if you'd been there, you'd 'a' settled his hash long before I +did. The things he said to me--and me your wife! It makes me sick to +think o' them--and of him, the low beast!" + +"Don't tink, den. Tink of me." + +"I do. I love you, Boy! The minute I lamped the pearls--when I sensed +they was real--I meant to get 'em, for you and me to set up house far +away somewheres on our own. We can go to Buenos Aires or some place +south, where they love a nice voice like yours, so you won't feel +wasted. If Chuff knew what we've got here in this table drawer!" + +"Better tie 'em up in your handkerchief again. If Chuff----" + +"Oh, Chuff nothing! I feel in my bones, now he's so late, he won't come +home to-night. I don't care what happens to Chuff. Let's go to bed." + +"No--not yet. I vait." + +"Peterson thought he could say what he liked to me, the pig!" Kit went +on. "Well, he's paid. His blood's on his own head. Oh, Churn, it was on +his head, every sense o' the word! I didn't like the look of it--turned +me sick! Lucky my long cloak was in the room. See--on my dress, two +stains! Boy, that trunk stunt was awful. You've got to let me go to bed +and sleep, or I believe I'll have hysterics and yell the house down. I +thought I was all right since I found you, but it's comin' on again, +that tremblin'!" + +"Go to bed, den, girl. I vait. Dat's easy." + +"I will. Just one more look at the pearls--our pearls! But I lost one. I +heard it roll. It was so close to him I--I couldn't----" + +"Don't you care. Dere's a lot for us. We'll count 'em first ting +to-morra', ven ve both feel like ourselves." + +"They ought to fetch a king's ransom, Boy." + +"Dey vill not, den. Dere'll be all de bulls in N'York after em. Joke on +us, dough, if Chuff was in de deal mit Pete!" + +"I'm sure he wasn't--dead sure." + +Silence fell. When the pair spoke again it was of other things. At last +Clo fell suddenly fast asleep, on the floor. She knew that Beverley's +pearls were in the next room. That had to be enough for the night. + + * * * * * + +The girl slept till dawn. Waking, she was astonished to find herself on +the floor, and for an instant could not remember what had happened. But +in a flash it all came back. Quickly she got up and quietly undressed, +putting on Mrs. MacMahon's immense nightgown before she dropped +thankfully upon the cot bed. Clo did not sleep again, but lay until +eight o'clock, when her neighbours began to stir. Then she listened once +more at the hole in the wall until she feared that Violet might come +with breakfast. The woman had suggested bringing it at nine, and lest +she should wonder why the hungry girl hadn't supped, the milk had to be +hastily poured away and the bread and ham hidden. The bed had also to be +lifted into place covering the hole in the wall. + +Nothing of special interest had been said by Kit and her husband since +their waking, but soon the young woman began to concern herself with the +subject of clothes. + +"I told Mrs. MacMahon we expected our baggage this morning from +Brooklyn. If it doesn't come it's been stolen--see? The old party won't +think wrong of Chuff's pals. He's a real family friend. Gee, all sorts +of things happen in a house like this! Before long we'll 'phone Isaacs +to come along and look at the pearls. Chuff's got a 'phone in his room, +you know." + +Clo knew also. She had good reason to know, and that Chuff had lent his +telephone book to "Jake." + +As Violet kicked on the door (her hands being occupied with the tray) +Clo hastily stuffed a handkerchief into the hole she had made in the +wall. She feared that the pair in the next room might take alarm at the +sound of voices, and therefore she cautiously subdued her own. She +hadn't slept well, she answered Violet's question. Her head ached, and +perhaps she might lie in bed the rest of the day. The promised reward +was given, and more offered if Violet would find time to buy toilet +articles, and a few clothes. She was begged to bring writing paper also; +there might be a letter to send by express delivery. + +The coffee, though weak, was hot, and Clo felt revived after drinking +it. Once more she placed the bed across the door, pulled out the +handkerchief "gag" from the hole in the wall, and thus, on sentinel +duty, finished her breakfast. + +Later in the day the couple next door resigned themselves to the +indefinite absence of Chuff. "Mrs. Mac" herself came up to see her +guests, who called themselves Mr. and Mrs. Stahl. The landlady talked of +Mr. Cheffinsky as her "star boarder," and said that she was used to his +"queer ways." Often he stopped away from home a day or two, but she +never worried. He always came back. The "Stahls" were voluble over the +non-arrival of their luggage, which seemed to vex them more than the +appearance of Cheffinsky, their old friend. Whether or not Mrs. MacMahon +believed the story, at all events she agreed to supply the needs of Mr. +and Mrs. Stahl, ordering a list of things for their selection. This +arrangement raised Clo's hopes. Maybe Churn and Kit intended to venture +out! If they went for a short airing, they would probably leave the +pearls at home. In their absence Clo would somehow get into the room +next door. With Beverley's jewels recaptured, her mission in this house +would be accomplished. + +But she was doomed to disappointment. After writing her hopeful letter +to Leontine, Clo's expectations of quick success were dashed. Kit and +Churn received the clothes they wanted, but did not go out; nor did they +audibly plan to go. Their intention was to eat downstairs, but they +would take turns. One would always keep guard over the pearls. Newspaper +mention of the "girl in pink" had scared them. After a heated argument +they decided that, till they "saw how the wind blew," they would not +risk sending for Isaacs. This was a sacrifice, because they wished to +dispose of the pearls before Cheffinsky came "nosing around"; but they +were not sure of Isaac's loyalty. Who could tell what he might do, if +tempted by big bribes to "frame" his pals? They must wait; and so must +Clo. + +Days passed. The girl still posed as an invalid taking a rest-cure, and +her tips to Violet were generous. Once she heard Kit inquiring who lived +in the next room; but Mrs. Mac's answer was satisfactory. A poor little +mite of a thing, out of a job as lady's maid, was their neighbour; +Irish, and recommended by an old client. + +Nine days lagged on, and then at last Clo came upon a "personal" in the +newspaper she took in. Instantly she realized that it was meant for her, +and put in by Justin O'Reilly. It was so worded that no "outsider" could +guess its meaning. "C.R. from her cousin who is just in," was the +heading which caught her eye. He knew that she knew his name was Justin; +and she had first introduced herself as his cousin! "Working out +Sunday's problem with expert help," she read, "Message received +insufficient. Won't you let me know where you are?" + +The girl dared not answer by letter or newspaper. Violet would undertake +any errand, but she could not be trusted for a mission of such +importance. O'Reilly must be content with the message passed on by Mrs. +Sands. + +On the ninth day Kit and Churn had a serious quarrel. The man insisted +on going out. He could stand his imprisonment no longer; not for Kit, +not for the pearls! + +Clo was not on sentinel duty when the explosion came. The hole in the +wall was open (she stuffed it up only when someone knocked, lest the +pair should take alarm at the clearness of sounds), but it was late in +the afternoon of a blazing hot day, and the girl lay on her narrow bed, +disgusted with life. She had now paid for a second week in advance. +There wasn't money to go on with for long, at the present rate, and she +knew not how to get more, but it was too hot to trouble about the +future. The quarrel next door was so sordid that Clo had ceased to +listen, when suddenly the names "Olga and Stephen," spoken loudly by +Kit, waked her from a half doze. With the light swiftness of a cat she +sprang off the bed, and went to her post. + + + + +XXXII + +"STEPHEN'S DEAD!" + + +"I thought you'd sure know the whole story," Kit was saying. + +"I on'y knowed about Stephen. That I had to know," said Churn. + +"But you knew why Pete came to New York, instead of going West, when he +got out of stir in Chicago?" + +"I know he come to kill Heron----" + +"Hully gee! Not so loud!" + +"Well, I know 'oo he came for den, if you like dat better." + +"But that wasn't the whole reason." + +"I knowed he was goin' to get hold o' some papers for Chuff; papers dat +was mixed all up mit our business." + +"H'm! That's what Chuff wanted us to think--that they concerned us. But +if you know about those papers, you must know the rest, about Olga." + +"I know vat Olga and Stephen vas to each other, if dat's vat you mean." + +"And who Olga is?" + +"Olga Beverley." + +"Greenhorn! You never got further than that?" + +"No. Vat for I get furder? I never see 'er. She's a name to me, dat's +all. Nevaire vould I heard even dat name if I didn't take care o' +Stephen, when Jake vas off on a bust or doin' a job for Chuff." + +"Funny we never got on to this line o' talk before," mused Kit. + +"I don't see vy 'funny.' You and me always haf something better to talk +about, Katchen. And till dese nine days in dis hole, we never 'ad too +much time together." + +"If Pete had been found dead and I hadn't done it, I'd say it was +'Olga!' She was the woman who had to give up the papers to him. He told +me he was waitin' for the papers to come. He said he wasn't sure whether +she'd bring 'em herself, or this girl you've seen about in the +newspapers; the one who called on him Sunday afternoon. I've told you +about the women's voices in the hall, and someone sittin' plump on the +trunk when I was inside. Well, if I could o' peeped, I bet I'd seen +Olga. She was one of the women dressed for the automobile they're tryin' +to trace an' can't." + +"Would you knowed Olga if you 'ad seen her?" + +"Would I? Say, did you never hear of Roger Sands?" + +"He was de guy who worked for Heron las' year, and got de gang goin' +after him." + +"Well, it was Olga he married, but not with her own name. She'd took +another so as to get away with the papers. She's had the papers from +then till now. The thing that interests me, and maybe will you, is +something else. It popped into my nut to-day that the pearls are hers! I +bet something went wrong with the papers, and she gave Pete the pearls +instead. I bet he was studyin' how to double-cross Chuff, and square +himself when--when my act comes on." + +"What 'old would Chuff 'ave on a woman married mit a big fellah like +Sands?" Churn wanted to know. "Vy she let herself be skinned like dat, +for Stephen's dead an' stiff dese tree weeks or more?" + +"Yes," Kit repeated. "Stephen's been dead 'most a month. That's one +reason they couldn't let things slide, so the minute Pete was free they +put him on the job. He was keen, because of Heron. And John Heron blew +into New York just the right time, for the plan. Pete was to get the +papers first, and then--you know what." + +"Yes, I know dat. But Stephen--Stephen gone, what 'old 'ad Chuff on +Olga?" + +"Booby, dear, Olga doesn't know Stephen's dead." + +Clo's blood rushed to her brain. She felt faint. Had she been on her +feet she would have fallen. This was the one thing of all for Beverley. +Clo felt that she hated this cruel Cheffinsky with an almost murderous +hatred. How could she let Beverley know, and make her understand that +"Stephen" was dead. Ought she to go back with her news to Park Avenue, +and abandon the pearls? The police could never be asked to take a hand +in this business, and before she could even ask help from O'Reilly and +Denham, Churn might have disappeared. With herself as sentinel off duty, +nothing was sure, for a dangerous restlessness possessed the pair. +Still, Beverley would sacrifice the pearls for the knowledge that her +enemies had no longer any hold upon her. + +"If I dared telegraph!" the girl thought. For she wanted Beverley to +have both the knowledge and the pearls. + +About this hour Violet was in the habit of toiling up with beer for Kit +and Churn, and water or lemonade for their neighbour. The woman was due +in a few minutes and Clo spent the interval in concocting a message for +Leontine Rossignol. + +"Tell your mistress I've had news since I last saw her that Stephen is +dead," were the words she decided on, before Violet's arrival was +advertised by a tinkle of ice. + +The telegram was delivered that night at the flat in Park Avenue, but +Mr. and Mrs. Sands and their household had left for Newport. Only a +parlour maid remained. She detested Leontine, being Bohemian by birth, +while Leontine was French. Anna Schultz decided to forget indefinitely +the telegram for Leontine Rossignol. + +When she had sent the message, Clo's thoughts went back to the pearls. +She would be driven to leave the house soon for lack of money. If she +had to go without the pearls, she would feel herself a failure. The net +was proving tough for the tiny teeth of a mouse! But the mouse was ready +to do anything rather than give up. + +That evening Churn again announced his intention to go out at any cost. +Whither he was bound, Clo did not know, for she had missed scraps of +talk in the next room. Kit cried, and in the midst of hysterical sobs, +the door slammed. Churn had gone! Kit continued to sob. + +Clo's blood took fire. She flamed with courage. Having fixed upon her +plan of action she darted into the passage and knocked on Kit's door. + +"Who's that?" came the sharp answer. + +"It's only me. The little girl from the next room," Clo explained in a +small voice like a child's. Her hair hung over her shoulders, and she +wore a cheap blue muslin dressing gown chosen by Violet. + +Kit threw open the door so suddenly, and stared so keenly through the +dusk that Clo shrank back a little. "What do you want?" snapped Kit. + +"Oh, maybe I oughtn't to have come!" Clo apologized. "I heard you +crying. And I'm so homesick and miserable myself! Don't be angry." + +Kit opened the door wide. Her bleached yellow hair bristled round her +face. + +"I didn't know I was howling so loud. Say, can you hear us talkin', me +and my husband? I hope we don't keep you awake nights." + +"You haven't kept me awake once," Clo assured her with truth. "Crying's +easier to hear than talking. You see, I'm in trouble and I'm awfully +lonely." + +"_I_ haven't got any real trouble," said Kit. "Me and my husband +sometimes have a spat, like all married folks, and I'm fool enough to +bawl. He's out now. Would you like me to come in and visit with you a +while?" + +"I'd love it!" gasped Clo. She would have preferred an invitation to her +neighbour's room, but she hoped for that later. Kit locked her door +carefully and slipped the key down the neck of her dress. She accepted +Clo's suggestion to sit on the bed, which was more comfortable than the +one broken-backed chair. Question after question she put, which cost her +hostess tiresome flights of imagination to answer. Clo was far from +regretting her move, however. If Churn were absent long, or if he went +out again, Kit said that she would return as an escape from boredom. + +It was eleven o'clock when once more Clo heard the two voices, and from +their conversation Clo gathered that they did not expect Chuff back till +the day after to-morrow. + +"Day after to-morrow!" echoed Kit. "Then we _must_ get Isaacs here +to-morrow." + +"I t'ought of dat," said Churn. "I went up dere after I see Jake. Isaacs +'as started for Chicago on business, and won't be back till the same day +as Chuff, day after to-morrah." + +Clo drank in each word, and focussed her mind on its meaning. To-morrow, +or the day after, her hour would come; then, or never. + + + + +XXXIII + +THE PATCH ON THE PILLOW + + +Churn's excursion had justified itself, and the morning after his first +absence he went out again. Toward noon Kit, in a "ready-to-wear" looking +costume, knocked at Clo's door. "Thought you might want some candy," she +said. "Shall I come in?" + +Clo was cordial, and tried to be entertaining. "If I can make her like +me, perhaps she'll go down to a meal with Churn, and leave me on guard," +she reflected. Kit feared to stop long with her new friend lest Churn +should arrive while she was "gadding." She dodged back and forth from +room to room, and was at home to receive her husband in the afternoon. + +Next morning early Clo heard Churn announce that he would meet Isaacs' +train at the Grand Central; the "old lady" had told him the time. Kit +objected. "You might miss him. Best wait at his place," she advised. But +Churn would not be persuaded. He had seen Jake again, who prophesied +that Chuff would not arrive before the afternoon. They had the whole +morning to see Isaacs and bargain with him, but it would be a waste of +time to hang about at "Isaacs' place." Churn would catch Isaacs at the +train, and bring him round to Kit. She must clear up the room, and have +everything ship-shape in an hour. But Kit's anger grew as Churn +insisted. "I know why you're mad to get to the Grand Central," she flung +at him. "Didn't you s'pose I noticed the name on the candy box. Bah! I +ain't a fool. You said you was sick of bein' boxed up with me. That put +me wise." + +Churn protested innocence, and went off jauntily, but Clo looked for +developments. "Kit's mum, to put Churn off the track," she thought. "But +she means to follow him. She's bought no handbag. She can't very well +take the pearls." + +Clo had read a paragraph concerning Mr. and Mrs. Roger Sands. It +referred to the "house-warming party" they were giving at their "lately +acquired cottage in Newport." Apparently the affair had been mentioned +before in the column devoted to "Society" news, but Clo had missed it. +The allusion to the "house-warming," and dinner dance set Clo's brain +whirling. Angel would be expected by her husband to wear the queen's +pearls. If he already guessed the secret, this might be a plan to force +his wife's hand. Beverley feared him. Clo had seen that. Angel must have +the pearls for to-morrow night. And they must be strung, ready to wear, +or they would be useless to her, arriving at the last moment. The girl +would have been at her wits' end, but for that quarrel next door. If Kit +did go spying on Churn...! + +The door slammed after Churn. A second later Kit was knocking, calling +her new friend by her new nickname: "Kid-Kid! Let me in, quick!" + +Clo let her in. Kit was pinning on a wide-brimmed hat, and had her hands +full with a veil, gloves, and parasol. "Tie this veil for me, there's a +good kid!" she panted. "I'm mad at my husband. He's off to flirt with a +beast of a girl in a candy store. They had a mash before we married. +You're goin' to be in all mornin', ain't you?" + +"I thought of running out to 'phone a friend of mine," said Clo, +cleverly. + +"Don't! There's a 'phone in the house, the room under mine--room of a +pal away till this afternoon. He left his key with Mrs. Mac, and she +lent it to my husband last night so he could borrow some novels for me; +our pal has lots. We've not given the key back, so when I come home I'll +take you down. I want you to stay in while I'm gone. All you need do is +to sit with your door open, and see if any one knocks at mine. And I've +got the key. But it's the same as every old key; 'tain't a special one +like Ch----like our pal's. If a stranger calls look close, so you can +describe the person." + +"I undertake watchdogging in all its branches," said Clo. "Ta, ta!" + +"I count on you!" were Kit's last words at the top of the steps. + +"Bet your life you can!" the "kid" called after her. But as Kit ran +downstairs, without stopping to look round, Clo dashed to her own open +window. In a moment Kit's parasol went bobbing along the street. The +coast was clear. Kit's manner made it certain that she had left the +pearls behind. + +Violet would not come up for the two breakfast trays for a long time +yet. Kit's opinion of the key was the same as that already formed by +Clo, and the girl was wild to test it. She snatched her own key from its +lock, to try it in Kit's door. It went in, but stopped at the critical +turn. There were two more rooms on this floor; a small one opposite +Clo's, tenanted by a young man who went to work at seven o'clock; and +another still smaller, used as a storeroom--a refuge for trunks, +dust-pans, and brooms. The early bird never locked his door, but his key +fell short of success. + +The storeroom key remained. It did not fail. It turned all the way round +in the lock, and Kit's door opened. + +Clo's was shut and locked, in case Violet should break her rule and come +too soon. + +Not only did the girl expect to find the pearls, but Chuff's key, and +she hoped to telephone if necessary, before making her "bolt." Wonderful +that both these chances should fall together! + +Clo knew that the pearls were kept in a drawer; but Kit would not go out +and leave them in so obvious a place. Nevertheless, Clo began by looking +through the drawers, of which there were six. + +Churn's evening clothes hung from a hook on the wall; there was nothing +in the pockets; nothing in the shoes which stood underneath except a +pair of socks. Other hiding-place there was none, save the bed; and it +was there that Clo expected to find the pearls. + +Kit had made the bed, and neatly patted the two ill-matched pillows into +shape. Clo stripped off the unbleached covers of these pillows and +looked for some sign that the ticking had been ripped open. There was a +patch on the larger pillow. One end of this patch was unsewn and held in +place with a pin. Underneath it something hard could be felt with the +hand. Clo undid the pin, and thrusting in her hand pulled out a packet +made of a red silk handkerchief tied round with gold string from a +confectioner's. Clo squeezed the tight folds of silk. They held the +pearls. + +It seemed a waste of time to open the handkerchief. She longed to run +out of the house with her treasure, without a second's delay. Why search +for Chuff's key? As she had found the pearls she did not need to 'phone. +The girl was at the door, with her hand on the key, before she realized +how mad it would be not to make certain of her find. + +Yes, the pearls were really there, the darlings! She re-wrapped the +parcel, and again was at the door when another thought struck her. +Better make the bed look as it had looked before. She returned, put the +pillows back into their covers, stood them up in place, and during the +process decided that she would spare a moment to search for Chuff's key. +It might come in handy. Kit had let drop that the key was a special key. +Clo guessed that at times there were things to hide, and then Chuff +would forget to leave that key for his friends! "It might be useful to +Mr. O'Reilly's Denham," she thought. "If I can find it quick----" + +And flitting about the room she pounced upon a key which answered Kit's +description. It was on the mantelpiece--a small, flat key, of a +"special" kind, because it was made for a Yale lock. + +She shut the door softly behind her, and locked it as she went out. The +borrowed key she replaced in the storeroom. Then she unlocked her own +door, and tearing off the blue wrapper, put on the tan-coloured linen +suit Violet had bought in a sale, for five dollars. There was a tan +straw hat, too (Clo dared not appear in the brown toque and coat +described by the newspapers), and a cheap handbag purchased for the +pearls in case she should get them. It was a tight fit for the red silk +bundle, but she squeezed it in, and added the big pearl found in +Peterson's room. She would also have tucked in the Yale key, but the bag +refused to shut, and she kept the key in her hand. What money she had +left, she slipped inside her blouse; everything else she abandoned. Kit +would rage in vain when she looked for the red handkerchief parcel. + +"I can't have been half an hour," she thought, as she tripped past the +breakfast trays and started downstairs. "Kit and Churn may be out a long +while yet. I'd hate to come face to face with 'em in the street!" + +Less than half way down, she heard Violet's voice, and her nerves +jumped. "On my way up for them trays o'yourn," the woman said. + +To whom was she speaking? Kit back already? Yes, Kit was answering her: +"I'll run up ahead. I'm in a hurry." + +The voices sounded near. Clo felt that her blood was turning to water. +Should she fly back and lock herself into her room? No, for Kit would +discover her loss, and would guess what had happened. A fight for the +pearls would be too uncertain, and Kit would call Mrs. Mac and Vi to the +rescue, or Churn might come----But could she hope to pass safely if she +went on? No, she had promised to guard the door. Kit would accuse and +stop her if they met. + +In her anguish Clo's fingers closed upon Chuff's key. If only she could +hide in Chuff's room before Kit reached his floor! She stumbled down the +last few steps, and paused at the room under Kit's. Would the key fit? +It went deep into the small keyhole, and turned. Kit must be close to +the top of the stairs now. + + + + +XXXIV + +TRAPPED + + +Trembling the girl locked herself into Chuff's room and went straight to +the telephone. If O'Reilly were at home he would make a dash to the +rescue. Her hand was on the receiver when she remembered that she was +marooned. She was ignorant of the 'phone number and had never dared +inquire the number of the house or street. Now, when it was too late, +she wished with all her heart that she had slipped out late at night, +while Kit and Churn slept, and thus found her bearings. She had not +gone, because the pair always talked till after midnight, and the later +the hour the more important their confidences. But surely she could not +fall over this small stumbling block! The girl ran to a writing table +and opened the blotting-book. It was old, thickly patterned with stains, +but it contained not a single sheet of paper. She pulled out a drawer. +There was writing paper in it, but unstamped. While she fumbled, hoping +for an old envelope addressed to Chuff, the girl could hear the patter +of feet overhead. Kit was in her own room walking about. Suddenly the +boards ceased to creak. Kit had stopped. Was it at the bedside? Was she +pulling the cover off the patched pillow? + +Clo had turned to a shelf crowded with books and magazines when a new +idea came to her. She snatched up the blotter and held it open, in front +of a mirror, over the mantelpiece. "Dear Peterson," she read, "Churn +will take you this, and----" + +The line beneath mingled with others, and could not be disentangled, but +the address of the house had been written above, and could be clearly +read. + +With a sigh of thanksgiving Clo ran to the telephone, called up Central, +and asked for the Dietz Hotel. Her voice could no doubt be heard in the +hall outside, and might even reach Kit's ears upstairs. But the door +must be broken before she could be torn from the 'phone, and at this +hour, when all the men boarders were out there was no strong arm for +such work. Meantime, O'Reilly might come. The girl longed for him with a +new and desperate longing. + +The Dietz answered quickly. Mr. Justin O'Reilly was still staying in the +hotel, but he had gone out. Tears started to Clo's eyes. She was trapped +now, and must summon Beverley to get the pearls. She had not the Sands' +'phone number, and must ask Central to call the Park Avenue apartment. +When she had done this, silence fell. But it was only for a moment. Clo +stood, with her ear at the receiver still, when a loud bang on the door +made her jump as though she had been shot. The door knob turned. + +"You little devil!" shrilled Kit's voice. "You--thief! I know you're +there. Wait till I catch you!" + +"Hello!" spoke a foreign-sounding voice through the 'phone--the voice of +a woman. "Hello! Yes, this is Mrs. Sands' flat. Mr. and Mrs. Sands are +not at home." + +"When will they be back?" asked Clo. + +"I don't know that," answered the cold voice of Anna Schultz. "It may be +a long time." + +The girl had an instant of despair, but she was not yet beaten. As Kit +pounded furiously on the door, Clo called up the jeweller where Ellen +Blackburne was employed. Ellen had been in but gone out again; but, oh, +she had just returned. She would step to the 'phone. + +A moment later Ellen's calm "Hello" seemed to travel to her from a +far-distant, peaceful world. + +"This is Clo," replied the girl, conscious that voices outside the door +ceased their clamour in order that ears might hear her message. "Yes, I +said Clo! For God's sake get into a taxi and rush to the number and +street I'm going to give you. Listen! Don't stop to ask questions. When +you get here, you don't need to come in. I'll drop something out of the +window. You can guess what. I'll expect you quick. Good-bye!" + +"I heard you!" shrieked Kit. "_I_ can guess, too! You've stolen my +pearls, and you think you'll pass 'em on to some other thief. But you +won't, you devil! We'll have this door down in five minutes." + +Clo went to the window, rolled up the blind, and raised the sash. + +"Why won't you let me call the police?" she heard Mrs. Mac asking. "I +tell you it's the only thing. I----" + +"She won't let you do it because she stole the pearls herself," cried +Clo, darting across the room to put her lips to the keyhole. "And that's +not all she's afraid of." + +"I'll kill you when I get my hands round your throat," Kit screamed her +down. + +"I won't be the first you've killed. Take care!" Clo retorted, and was +then stung with regret for her boldness. There would be no mercy for her +now from Kit or Churn when the door gave way. They would know that she'd +been the woman at the telephone masquerading as Kit. + +But, if only Miss Blackburne came first, before they broke in, she +didn't much care. With the pearls safe, she could fight for herself. + +"Hurrah, by all that's good, here's my Boy!" crowed Kit outside the +door. "Churn! you've come! Mr. Isaacs, too! I was never so glad in my +life to see any one as you both! There's a thief in Mr. Cheffinsky's +room--the girl that's been living next door to us. She's stole my poor +little string o' beads." + +Men's voices spoke. Churn and Isaacs were indeed there! The girl put her +ear to the keyhole once more, and listened. + +"What did I tell you about dat key?" Churn caught her up. "You're ten +kinds of a fool, girl. But de tief's dere all right, you say?" + +"Yes, she's there all right. She must have took Chuff's key off our +mantelpiece. You left it there! The little brute's been 'phonin' some +pal to come in a taxi so she can drop my pearls out the window." + +"Let me go down and talk things over with the pal when he comes," said +another voice that was very smooth, and had a lisp. Clo deduced that it +was the voice of Isaacs. + +"Yes, do go down!" The girl jeered him through the keyhole. "I'll call +from the window what you are, a fence; that's your nickname. You're a +receiver of stolen goods." + +For a few breathless moments there was no sound. Clo wondered if Ellen +had started, and how soon the taxi might arrive. She went again to the +window and looked out. There was no taxi in sight, no vehicle of any +sort, but children playing, women chatting together. Clo wished that she +might shriek at the top of her voice "Help!" "Thieves!" "Murder!" A +policeman would surely come, and she and the pearls would be saved. But +Beverley would be lost. The story of the pearls would come out somehow. +As she gazed like Sister Anne from the tower, two things happened. In +the house, a blow from a hammer made the door quiver; in the street a +taxi came swinging into sight. + +"They'll have the door down!" Clo gasped. "But if only that's Ellen +she'll be just in time." + +The bag containing the pearls in their red wrapping was in the girl's +hand. She stood, prepared to throw it if Ellen appeared. The taxi was +slowing down. Yes, it was stopping in front of the house. It must be +Ellen--but no! A man stepped out, and glanced quickly in all directions. +He did not look up at the window, where Clo had shrunk back as far as +she could, not to lose sight of what went on below. He was furtively +intent upon a gray limousine car, with several men in it, which had +followed the taxi along the street. The motor passed on, however, and +its occupants (there were four or five, Clo fancied) were busily +talking. They did not look out, or interest themselves in the stopping +of the taxi. The man who had come in the latter had the air of hiding +behind it, as he paid the chauffeur and carefully counted his change; +but the instant the limousine had slid ahead, regardless of him, he ran +up the steps. Clo, at the window, could see him no more. + +"What if it's Chuff?" she thought, "and he finds them breaking down his +door?" + +Somehow she had the impression that Cheffinsky was even more wicked than +Churn, a man without scruples, a man who would stop at nothing for his +own advantage. + +"Crack!" went one of the panels, and Clo, flying to the door, snatched +the key from the keyhole. She knew the panel could not last many +minutes, and a picture rose before her mind of a hand pushing through a +hole, to turn the key in the lock. Anyhow, that should not happen! + +Back she fled to the window again, and stared anxiously out. + +Another taxi appeared. The gray limousine had turned, and was coming +back, also. But Clo cared only for the taxi. It was slowing down. A +woman thrust her head out and looked up--a neat little head in a black +toque. "Miss Blackburne!" The girl cried shrilly. The taxi stopped. But +the door stuck. Oh, why didn't the silly chauffeur jump off his seat and +help? + +Crash! The panel broke with a loud shriek of rending wood. The hammer +came through, and was jerked quickly out again. A man's hand seized a +jagged piece of the panel and tore it away. An eye peered through the +aperture, but Clo was at the window. + +"Quick--quick!" she implored, and brandished the bag far over the sill. + +The eye disappeared from the panel, and the muzzle of a revolver took +its place. + +Miss Blackburne had jumped down on to the pavement. + +"If you throw out that bag, I fire," a voice warned Clo--a new voice, +not Churn's. + +The girl glanced round involuntarily, and saw the small black object +imbedded in the smashed door panel. Her nerves jerked, but she turned +back to the window, with a sensation of ice in her spine. + +"String these and get them to _her_, if you have to take them to +Newport!" she cried. + +There was a queer muffled explosion, not unlike the breaking of wood, +yet somehow different. Clo felt a blow on the shoulder, and then a +strange, heart-rending pain. She staggered, fell forward on to her +knees, hanging over the window sill. But she threw the bag. A red light +flamed in her eyes, not like the light of the summer day. Through the +redness she thought she saw a little woman in black catch the bag and +stand still, looking up. Clo tried to wave her hand, motioning "Go +on--hurry!" and her lips formed the words. She was not sure whether the +woman went, or whether she had been stopped at the taxi door by some men +getting out of that gray limousine; the cloud of red had grown so thick. +But there were noises behind her. The men in the hall had burst the door +open. She could not look round again. Her head rested upon her arm, +lying on the window sill. Then someone was dragging her away. It was all +over for her in this world! But Beverley's pearls were saved. + + + + +XXXV + +THE TIME LIMIT OF HOPE + + +A big, blond man had hustled Mrs. Mac and Violet downstairs before the +shot was fired. It was bewildering to them that Mr. Cheffinsky should +come home after his strange absence with his beautiful golden beard and +moustache shaved off. + +Cheffinsky was like an officer directing a defence. He took command +instantly he entered the house, seeming to understand the situation +without a question. "If any one rings, let Violet be a long time opening +the door," he said. "But it must be opened. Don't act as if there was +something to hide. Keep 'em talking, no matter who, or about what as +long as you can. There's been a theft from a lady boarder, and a little +excitement; you've only to tell the truth--see?" + +All this in a second; but it got the two women out of the way. The spy +must be muzzled at any cost, for Cheffinsky guessed at a word from Kit +that this was the mysterious girl of the telephone. + +"Pick her up," he said to Kit, when they had got the locked door open. +"If any eyes are on that window, it won't look too queer for one girl to +pull another back into the room." + +As the other two women had done, Kit obeyed. She was used to obeying +Chuff in the past. She dragged Clo to the back of the room, out of sight +from the window, and awaited further commands. + +"Now," Chuff said, "if we're spotted, this is a suicide--see? She stole +your pearls, and when she was caught she killed herself." + +"But the shot's in her shoulder--and she ain't dead. She's opening her +eyes," Kit objected. + +"She's got to be dead," Chuff decreed. "I know how to fix the bullet +business. It'll have to be done now, because if trouble comes it will +come quick. Look here; this is the thing to do, if there's questions to +answer. You caught her stealing. She ran down to this room from yours, +threw the stuff out of the window to a pal, and then grabbed my Browning +from the mantelpiece. She'd have shot you, but seeing the men, knew the +game was up, and did for herself instead. Shut the window, Kit. I'm +going to put another ball into her, in the chest, just opposite the spot +of blood on her back. Carry her into the closet, to cover the sound. I +mustn't touch her myself. There's spots on you already. Account for them +by saying you picked her up to see if she was alive." + +"But if she's in the closet----" + +"She ran there, and shot at you from inside the door, after we'd all +broken into the room to get at her. Is that clear to you both? We must +stick to the same story. Into the closet with her, Kit." + +Clo felt a strange sensation, as if her soul had left the body that hung +limp in Kit's strong arms, and was gazing at it with impersonal pity. +"The worst will be ended for me in a minute," she thought. Then, +suddenly, she remembered Justin O'Reilly. A great desolation of +loneliness swept over her. He would be sorry. But he was far away. + + * * * * * + +When Clo telephoned, Ellen Blackburne did not even know that the Sands +were out of New York. The message, however, instantly awoke her sleeping +interest. She guessed that Clo had tracked the thief, and that what she +called the "weird address" given was the "lair." Miss Blackburne was no +coward, and the astonishing request that came over the telephone wires +did not frighten her. She prepared to follow instructions at once, +taking only one precaution. Before starting, she left word that if she +did not 'phone or return within an hour, inquiries were to be made at +the house and in the street whose number she wrote down. + +The pearl-stringer did, therefore, precisely what she had been asked to +do. She abandoned the work laid out for the morning, and dashed off in a +taxi on a moment's notice. Clo's little face at the window of a +tenth-rate boarding-house told her nothing new. Clo was always pale. +When the girl dropped to her knees it looked to Ellen as if that +attitude were more convenient for throwing down the bag. No sound of a +pistol shot reached Ellen's ears over the noises of the street. She +heard only the "teuf-teuf" of her own taxi, and the snort of a big gray +car which had at that instant come to a stop close by. Miss Blackburne +was used to odd adventures, and prided herself on "keeping cool," but +she could not help giving an undignified jump as a man sprang out of the +gray limousine and laid a hand on her arm. + +"What is in that bag and where are you taking it? I've a right to know," +he said sharply. "I'm a friend of Miss Riley." + +Ellen grabbed at the door of her taxi. The man was about thirty or +thirty-two, she thought, certainly a gentleman and rather handsome. "I'm +acting for Miss Riley," she returned as sharply. "My name's Blackburne. +Clo's in a hurry for me to do an errand. If you're really her friend, +you'd better let me get away while you look after her." + +The two eyed each other for an instant. "You are Miss Ellen Blackburne, +the pearl-stringer?" the man inquired. + +"The same," she answered. + +"Then go on her errand!" he exclaimed. And while Ellen stared, he ran up +the steps of the house where a companion had already rung the bell. +Neither of the men looked again at her. Ellen waited for no more. To +save delay and further suspense for Mrs. Sands she drove straight to the +Park Avenue house, in order to string the pearls there: for she had +hastily collected her materials before starting. It was a blow to hear +from the hall porter that the Sands had already left New York; she +decided on going up to get further information. She even thought of +sending a long-distance message to Beverley from her own flat; but the +grim personality of Anna Schultz banished this idea at a glance. Ellen +realized that if she asked to enter the apartment she would be regarded +as a suspicious character. Important business with Mrs. Sands would take +her to Newport immediately, she told Miss Schultz. If there were any +letter or parcel to be sent she would carry it. + +Anna's reply to this offer was a stiff refusal, but Miss Blackburne had +not reached the lift when the woman came after her. "I've just +remembered, there's a telegram for Mrs. Sands' French maid, you might +give her by hand, if you're going to Newport to-day," she said, with a +grudging air. "It will be quicker than posting." Anna Schultz slipped +the envelope into Ellen's hand, and turned away without waiting for an +answer. + +Having telephoned to the jewellers where she was employed, Ellen decided +to string the pearls at home. She dared not dash off to Newport without +seeing her mother, and arranging with a neighbour to stop in the house +while she was gone. On second thoughts, she told herself that, for Mrs. +Sands' own sake, it might be best not to risk a reassuring message of +any sort in advance. Someone else might happen to receive it! She +determined simply to work as fast as possible, and take the first train +she could catch for Newport, with the restrung rope of pearls. + + * * * * * + +Beverley dreaded the night of the dance more even than she had dreaded +her mission, nearly a year ago, in Albuquerque. + +It seemed very long since she had been radiantly happy in the thought of +this glorified cottage at Newport--"Gulls' Rest"--Roger's present to +her. She hated it now, and everything associated with it; the fuss of +settling into the place, in a foolish hurry, though the Newport season +had not yet begun: Roger's determination to begin with a house-party and +a dance; his civil, quiet coldness to her; the strange look she caught +in his eyes at times; the mystery of Clo's silence, which deepened day +by day; fear of reprisals for loss of the papers; these things seemed +harder to bear in Newport than at home in New York. Often Beverley +wondered how long she would be sane. + +The Sands had brought with them a couple of friends: two others had +joined them the day after, and half a dozen more had come since. Roger +had engaged all the rooms in a small but delightful hotel for extra +guests who would arrive for the dance and stay the night; and, in +advance of the season as the house-warming was, word had gone out that +the entertainment would be worth a long journey. The favours for the +cotillon were said to have cost ten thousand dollars; and there was to +be a "surprise" of some sort. Perhaps this was the reason why Mrs. Heron +changed her mind, and John Heron wired to Roger that he and his wife +would be pleased to come on from Narragansett, where they were spending +a weekend for Heron's health. + +The invitation had been sent to the Herons by Roger's firmly expressed +wish, but Beverley had not dreamed that it would be accepted. And, after +all, they were both coming to the dance! This seemed ominous. It gave +her one more fear for the dreaded night. + +Through the morning she still wildly hoped for news from Clo. Even as +the afternoon wore on she did not utterly despair; but at six o'clock, +when Roger advised her and the other women staying in the house to rest +till dressing-time, she definitely gave up. For the first time since +that Sunday night which marked the end of happiness, Roger slipped his +hand under her arm in a friendly, familiar way. + +"Come along," he said. "I'll trot you up to your room and see that you +lie down. I want you to look your best to-night; and you know dinner's +at eight. You won't have more than an hour's nap. I suppose it'll take +you at least an hour to dress?" + +"Just about," Beverley answered, dully. She knew that she could not +sleep, but she was worn out with the effort of "keeping up" before her +guests. She expected Roger to leave her at the door of her room, which +he had entered only when the house was being shown to friends; but to +her surprise, almost alarm, he followed her in. She said that she would +not ring yet for Leontine. She would unfasten her own frock and find her +own dressing-gown. + +"I'll draw the curtains for you," Roger suggested, in the coolly kind +manner to which she had grown accustomed during the black fortnight. +"One rests one's brain best in twilight, I think. I'm sure you need +rest. I never saw you so pale. I hope you're not worried about +to-night?" + +"Worried? Why should I be worried?" she echoed. "I'm sure everything +will go well, aren't you?" + +"I hope so," he said, gravely. "You haven't shown me your new dress. I +suppose it's come?" + +"Oh, yes," Beverley replied, convinced that it was not about the dress +he thought or cared. "It came the day after we arrived." + +"Good! Then you'll be able to do full justice to the pearls!" + +Beverley had the impulse to throw herself into her husband's arms and +upon his mercy; but she would not, or could not--she hardly knew which. +It seemed to her that he was being purposely cruel, and was deliberately +testing, torturing her, to see how much she could bear and not break. +"Let him find out when the time comes," she thought, in sullen despair. +Instead of confessing her trouble she asked if he would like to see her +new gown. + +"No," Roger said. "I'll wait till you're ready and I can see you in your +glory--pearls and all." + +Beverley merely smiled an answer, and wondered what Roger thought of her +smile. He drew the curtain, and led her to rest, asking at the door that +she would promise to call him when she was dressed. "I want to have a +good look at you before you go downstairs," he added as he went out. + +Adjoining Beverley's bedroom was a small room whose wall appeared to be +composed entirely of mirrors. It was a glorified wardrobe with mirror +doors, and light and ventilation came from above. Behind the mirror +doors were deep closets, some of which were lined with cedar, others +with sandalwood; and at the back of one was an ingeniously concealed +safe. In this safe Mrs. Roger Sands' jewels had already been placed, and +among them was the empty case which had contained the queen's pearls. +Beverley slid back the sandalwood panel, and opened the steel door +behind it, which was manipulated by a miniature time-lock. + +"Suppose I wear diamonds and emeralds," she thought, "and tell Roger +they match better with my dress than the pearls--that I'll wear the +pearls another time?" + +But at the best this would only postpone the evil moment. + +She took off her dress of embroidered white organdie, and put on a _robe +de chambre_. Then she dropped wearily down on a great, cushiony sofa, +not to rest, but because she had nothing else to do. + +It was very still in her room, save for a far-off murmur of waves below +the rocks. When she had remained thus for about three quarters of an +hour she sprang up, her brain throbbing more feverishly, her body +quivering more uncontrollably than when she had lain down. It was close +upon seven o'clock, and she rang for Leontine. Her hair had to be done, +and the whole process of dressing would need quite an hour. + +"I daresay Mary Stuart took a lot of pains dressing to have her head cut +off," she thought bitterly. + +Leontine came, and made ready her mistress's bath. She emptied a bottle +of eau de Cologne into the tepid water, but for once the refreshing +scent failed to revive Beverley. She was like a creature in a dream as +Leontine wound her long hair in bands round her head (a new fashion +Roger had fallen in love with a few weeks ago), fastening it here and +there with diamond pins. "Madame will be late if we are not careful," +the Frenchwoman said. "Everything takes so long to-night." She laid on +the floor at Beverley's feet a cloud of silver gauze, supple as chiffon. +It was the new dress and Madame must step into it to avoid ruffling her +hair. Beverley obeyed, and when her arms had slid into the odd little +jewelled sleeves, she let Leontine draw her gently in front of a mirror. + +"Madame is like a marvellous statue of ivory and silver," the maid +exclaimed. "But she should have some colour. If Madame--but no, it is +too late. There is a knock. It will be Monsieur. Shall I open the door?" + +"Yes, open the door," Beverley echoed. Her voice sounded metallic and +unnatural in her own ears. + + + + +XXXVI + +"WE DO THINGS QUICKLY OVER HERE" + + +"Is this heaven?" Clo wondered. + +"No, you darling, it's not. It's our same poor old world; but it'll be +near heaven if you'll get well and live for me," said Justin O'Reilly. +Then it seemed to the girl that she heard a very odd, choking sound, and +on to her half-parted lips fell a drop of something hot. She tasted +this, and found it salt. + +"You--you can't be crying?" she mumbled. + +"I am." O'Reilly answered, "crying with joy. I don't remember doing it +before--in joy or sorrow. Here goes another tear! Sorry! I couldn't help +spilling it on you. Shan't happen again." + +O'Reilly's face was close to hers. She smiled up at him. Everything +seemed strange except that he should call her darling. That, somehow, +was not strange at all. Nor was it strange that his head should be bent +over her upturned face. Yet he said it was the same poor old world! + +"I thought I was dead," she explained. + +"I thought so, too, for a minute, and it was the worst minute and the +worst thought I ever had. But you're alive. And you're going to live. I +tell you that on the doctor's authority. He and the nurse are having a +confab in the next room. In fact, when we saw you coming to all right, +after the anaesthetic (a bullet had to come out of your poor little +shoulder!) I asked them to leave me alone with you. I wanted to be the +first one your eyes saw. You're going to live for me, aren't you? +Because I adore you, you know!" + +"I know," the girl echoed, floating on a strange, bright wave of joy. + +"You know I adore you?" + +"Something told me it would come out like that," she said. "In those +long days when I had to lie still in my room and listen to Kit and +Churn, another voice--so different from theirs!--seemed to say it in my +ear. Your message for me in the newspaper--I was sure it was for me--put +it into my head. I couldn't answer. But the message was the greatest +comfort! I didn't feel alone after that." + +"Precious one! You're a star heroine, and a martyr and a saint, and I +don't know what not. But most of all, you are my life--my very life. +I've had a big disappointment since I parted from you--lost a thing I'd +wanted for years--lost it to Roger Sands. His revenge for--I hardly know +what! Yet finding you and holding you like this shows me that nothing +else matters. What's a house, anyhow, except this darling house not made +with hands--your little body, house of your soul? When you know me +better, could you learn to love me, do you think, if I try hard to teach +you?" + +"Oh, but I do love you already," said Clo, as a matter of course. "Even +that first night--there was something about you--I hated to cheat and +rob you the way I did. And it was wonderful hearing your voice in the +telephone, in Peterson's dreadful room. It wasn't only that I hoped +you'd help, it was because it was you--because you were different for me +from anybody else, different even from Angel." + +"Good Lord, I should hope so!" + +"And I've wanted you dreadfully ever since. That's why I thought it must +be heaven when I woke up just now and saw you." + +"You angel!" + +"How funny you should call me that. Oh, I've almost forgotten my poor +Angel! I must get to her, somehow." Clo looked around hastily, and +realized that she was lying on a bed in a peculiarly unattractive room, +and that O'Reilly was kneeling on the floor by the bedside. "How wicked +of me to think more about you than her!" + +"If you mean Mrs. Sands, you shall go to her when you're able. Mrs. +Sands is all right. You sent her something rather important by Miss +Blackburne, the pearl-stringer that you told me about that night in the +taxi--and in Krantz's Keller. I talked to the woman--and cursed myself +afterward for stopping to speak, when I found you and saw how every +instant had counted. I oughtn't to have waited even for a second." + +"Oh, you couldn't have saved me if you'd come up without speaking to +Ellen. The shot was fired before I threw out the bag with the pearls," +Clo broke in. "I remember now. Someone fired through the hole in the +door. It was Chuff, I'm sure. It didn't hurt much. It was like a heavy +blow, and I couldn't help dropping on my knees at the window. I felt +weak and queer, but I called to Ellen. Then somebody picked me up--Kit, +I think. I could hear them arguing what to do with me. Funny! I thought +of you then--and that's the last I remember till now." + +"I must have been in the house by that time," O'Reilly soothed her. "I +had come for you! I was sure you'd be where Kit was, because of the +pearls. Denham and I had been trying to track Churn and Kit and +Chuff--all the lot you told me about--ever since you turned me down, in +Krantz's Keller." + +"I didn't turn you down!" + +"No, I don't mean that! You were a brave little soldier going into +battle on your own." + +"A soldier? No, I was only a mouse." + +"I know. 'The lion's mouse.' And to gnaw the net the lion was caught in, +you had to stick your head into another lion's den. But some memoranda +you'd picked up and left for us put Denham on the right trail. He +doesn't need much of a pointer, that chap! He fairly jumped on to the +track of a fellow named Isaacs--at least Isaacs is his 'alias'--a man +who's been suspected for a long time as a receiver of stolen goods--a +fence. When I got the tip that Kit and Churn were staying in the house +where we were to spot Chuff, I was sure I had the clue to you. I wish to +God we'd been five minutes earlier; but I thank Him we weren't five +minutes too late! If the police eventually bring the crime home to Kit +(that's improbable, Denham thinks) there's nothing to link up the story +with the name of Mrs. Sands." + +"Oh, I'm not sure!" breathed Clo. "Kit knows about her. She told Churn." + +"She won't tell any one else, you may depend on that. If she's accused +of the murder, she won't confess to stealing somebody's pearls as her +motive. She'll say that Peterson insulted her, and she feared him; some +sob-sister stuff of that sort." + +"She did complain to Churn that Pete was horrible to her, and that if +Churn had been there to hear what he said, he'd have killed him quick," +Clo remembered. + +"You see, she wanted to clear herself in the eyes of her best young man! +How much more anxious she'd be to keep on the same line if it came to +saving herself from the Chair! You can make your mind easy about your +friend Mrs. Sands. I won't say a word against her. You love her. You may +be right, I may be wrong. I'm growing humble. I don't set my judgment +against yours, even though I know some things about the lady which it's +probable you don't know. But she's been good to you. That makes all the +difference to me. She's to be saved from the consequences of things +which--you'll never hear from my lips. Saved she shall be if it depends +at all on yours ever. But you've done so much that little more remains." + +"Then you'll give her the papers?" + +"The papers you returned to me that Sunday night?" + +"It wasn't I who returned them. I don't know who did send them. It's the +greatest mystery! But if you love me, you'll hand them back." + +O'Reilly looked grave. "I love you," he said, "more than I ever thought +it was in me to love, though I had an idea it might go hard with me when +my time came. But I gave the papers to Heron, whose property they +were--and are. I was only keeping them for him because he had reason to +think they weren't safe in his possession." + +"John Heron!" Clo echoed. A thought had suddenly started out from the +background of her mind, pushing in front of her fears for Beverley. +"Yes, of course, he's a friend of yours! But he's in worse danger than +his papers ever were. From things they said, I believe Pete came East on +purpose to kill him. Of course, there were the papers to get as well. +But he wanted to kill John Heron. It was Chuff who ordered him to get +the papers. Pete had some grudge of his own against Mr. Heron, so he +made a good catspaw. When Pete was killed, Chuff had to find someone +else to do the job. I don't know John Heron, and never saw him in my +life, so I----" + +"There you're mistaken," O'Reilly broke in. "Did you notice any one +coming out of a room next to my suite when you were letting yourself in +with my key which you had--er--found?" + +"Yes!" cried Clo. "A beautiful woman in a black dress with gorgeous +jewellery; and a tall man with reddish hair and beard and--Oh, eyes! +Great dark eyes that looked at me in a strange way. I felt them in my +spine." + +"That was the first time you saw John Heron, the man his enemies still +call the Oil Trust King--though thanks to Roger Sands they daren't call +him that out aloud. The second time must have been in Heron's own room. +But you shall judge for yourself. He'd been downstairs with his wife. He +went up to his rooms again for something, and in the hall outside his +own door--which he'd just unlocked--he fell down in a sort of fainting +fit. Well, putting two and two together, after you told me your +adventure creeping along the ledge from my window to his, it occurred to +me that there'd been just cause for the seizure. I didn't think Heron +was the man to keel over in a faint, even for a thing like that. All the +same, seeing that ghostly vision would account for his attack." + +"I understand," said Clo. "I saw he was flabbergasted. But that first +time at the door, when he was with his wife, he didn't look at me as if +I were a stranger. It was as if he knew me, and almost fell over himself +to see me again. That was the feeling I had, but I was--a little +excited." + +"Most girls would have been corpses!" + +"I felt like a live coal. But we mustn't let the gang make a corpse of +Mr. Heron, must we? Let's warn him. Where are we, anyhow?" + +"Same house you were in. Doctor said it wouldn't be safe to move you. We +disinfected the best we could in a hurry, and he extracted the bullet +from your poor little shoulder. Thank God, I was in time, or there might +have been another bullet or two, that couldn't be extracted! You're all +right now, or will be with a little rest, and we'll get you into a +nursing home. As for Heron, he and his wife have gone to Narragansett. +That's close to Newport, you know, where Mrs. Sands is." + +"Angel in Newport already! Then the pearls--but I told Ellen Blackburne +to take them there if she had to. Do you think she will?" + +"Sure! She'll catch the first train." + +"No. She won't do that. She thinks of her mother before everything. But +the ball's not till to-morrow. Angel won't need the pearls till then. +Oh, if I could be sure she'll get them! I can't rest till I'm sure. I +must go to Newport. I must." + +"When you're strong enough." + +"I'm strong enough now. Is it late?" + +"Getting on toward evening. You were a long time coming to yourself. +Presently the doctor will say whether you can be moved to-night to that +nursing home." + +"If I can be moved to a nursing home I can be moved to Newport. Tell the +doctor I shall burst if I can't go." + +"You may tell him yourself." + +"I _must_ go. I must know if all goes right with the pearls. I must know +if it's better or worse for Angel that Stephen's dead." + +"Stephen's dead!" + +"Yes. Did you know him?" + +"I know of him. He is----" + +"Don't tell me. She mightn't want me to hear. I haven't heard anything +except that Kit and Churn talked about his having died, and said Angel +had been cheated." + +"By Jove, I begin to see light." + +"Now you see why I must go to her? And you've forgotten maybe what I +told you about Mr. Heron. If he's near Newport, I----" + +"Look here, darling, if the doctor says you can be taken there +to-morrow--oh, in time to arrive before the famous ball--let's say in a +comfortable motor car, travelling slowly, banked up on cushions, will +you go as my wife?" + +Clo stared as if O'Reilly had broken into some strange language which he +expected her to understand. "Your wife?" + +"Well--don't you expect to marry me? That's what happens when a girl and +a man love each other." + +"Oh--some day--if you're sure you really want an ignorant little girl +like me, brought up in an orphan asylum, who's worked in a shop and +hasn't a penny in the world--except a dollar or two left of Mrs. Sands' +money. A long time from now, when you've thought about it----" + +"I've thought of nothing else since we met and parted, and I realized +that you were my life and soul. If you can make up your mind to 'some +day,' it might just as well be to-morrow. Don't you want to console me +for the loss of the only other thing, besides you, I've ever wanted with +all my heart? You do if you love me. The dear old house that was my +father's! You know, when you sent up your name at the Dietz as Miss +O'Reilly, I believed you were my cranky cousin Theresa, come to tell me +she'd changed her mind about selling the house. Why, you owe it to me, +if you care, to make up for that. Your Angel's husband has bribed +Theresa to sell to him. The place has passed away from me forever. But +if you'll marry me to-night I shan't care. In the joy of being +husband--and nurse--to the bravest and dearest mouse in the world I'll +forget everything and be the happiest man on God's earth." + +"People don't get married at a few hours' notice." + +"Don't they? How long have you lived in the United States, my Irish +colleen?" + +"Months. Over a year. But I never discussed marriage." + +"I'm jolly glad you didn't. But you'll hear of nothing else till the +knot's tied. We do things quickly over here." + +Then the door opened, and the doctor came in. + + + + +XXXVII + +THE TELEGRAM + + +Roger Sands had hardly known himself for many days. His wife had read +him aright. At times he was purposely cruel. At times he did wish to see +how much she could bear and not break. Yet if she had broken, he felt +that he could not have helped seizing her in his arms and forgiving her. + +While he dressed that night he hoped that she would send for him, or +come to him, and confess that the pearls were gone, that she had given +them to O'Reilly, whom she had once loved, and whom she loved no more. + +But she neither sent nor came. She was bluffing it out to the last. He +might have known she would do that, although he had taken her to her +room to give her one more chance to repent. At half-past seven he was +ready, but he waited quietly ten minutes. Then he went to his door, +meaning--as he said to himself roughly--to "get the thing over." But he +paused with his hand on the knob. He thought that he heard a woman's +voice saying: "May I come in?" + +His muttered comment upon one of his and Beverley's guests, whom he +supposed the intruder to be, was far from flattering. Perhaps, however, +it would be well not to find his wife alone. He would give Beverley a +few minutes more, to be sure that her dress was on, before he went to +interrupt the chorus of mutual admiration; but no woman's presence +should prevent him from asking the question he meant to ask--"Where are +your pearls?" + +At exactly eight minutes to eight Roger ceased his restless tramp up and +down the room, and stopped again at the door. Before he could open it, +however, there was a light tap--a tap like Beverley's in happier days. +"Can she mean, after all, to tell me the truth?" he wondered; and he +heard his voice saying mechanically, "Come in." + +Beverley came in; Roger's room was full of light, and as his wife +entered she faced it. She glittered from head to foot like an ice maiden +under a blazing sun. She wore a wreath of diamond roses; round her waist +was a girdle of diamonds with long tasselled ends; on her white satin +shoes were diamond buckles; and over her bare, white neck, her young +gauze-enfolded bosom, hung the rope of the queen's pearls. + +"I thought you were coming in to see me dressed?" she said calmly. "Did +you forget?" + +For answer Roger stared. He stepped back into the room, and let Beverley +shut the door. She stood before him smiling, though, if he had analyzed +her smile, he would have said that it was sad. "How do you think I +look?" she asked, when he did not speak. "I hope you're not +disappointed?" + +"You have had those pearls copied!" he flung at her. + +Beverley blushed bright crimson. She understood instantly what he meant +and thought, but she had not gone through tortures and been relieved at +the last moment to be beaten down now. + +"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes steady, her head up. + +"You thought I didn't know. But I have known from the first. I found out +by accident. I always hoped you'd some day tell me the truth. This is a +cowardly thing you've done." + +Beverley was again ivory pale. "Are you a judge of pearls, Roger?" she +coldly inquired. + +"Yes," he said. + +She lifted the rope over her head and thrust it, against his will, into +his hands. "Make any test you wish, and decide whether these are the +pearls you gave me or an imitation." + +Hardly knowing what he did, he walked to a table, on which stood a tall +lamp that gave a brilliant light. Beverley watched him. There was no +emotion whatever on her face. After a moment he spoke: "These are +genuine pearls," he admitted, after a heavy silence. "And I have reason +to believe from certain marks that they are the pearls I bought for you, +the queen's pearls. If you give me your word, that since I put them into +your hands you did not part with them to Justin O'Reilly, as I have +believed, I will beg your forgiveness on the knees of my soul. I will +confess to you--as I once expected you to confess to me." + +"Hush! There's someone at the door!" Beverley cut him short. + +It was Leontine who knocked, and paused on the threshold. "Will Madame +have the kindness to step into the hall," she asked. As her mistress +moved toward her, she retired, and it was not until they both stood at +some distance from the door that the Frenchwoman spoke. + +"I beg Madame's pardon for disturbing her," she apologized, "but I dare +not delay. The lady, Mees Blackburne, if that is her name, was about to +start back to town, but remembered a commission she had been given at +the apartment; to bring a telegram for me. I opened it, to find that for +me there is no sense. I know no Stephen; but----" + +"Stephen!" Beverley gasped the name, and snatched from the woman's hand +an open telegram she held. She read it, and then without a word or cry, +collapsed in a dead faint. With a shriek of fear Leontine tried to catch +the swaying figure; but the best she could do was to break the fall. +When Roger reached the door it was to find Beverley in a white heap on +the floor with the Frenchwoman kneeling by her side. He caught his wife +up, and, carrying her back into his room, laid her on the bed. + +"Let everybody be told that dinner will be delayed half an hour," he +said, and shut the door in Leontine's face. She snatched the dropped +telegram and whisked off to obey the master's command. + + + + +XXXVIII + +WHO IS STEPHEN? + + +As Roger stood looking down at Beverley she opened her eyes. + +"Stephen is dead!" she muttered. "Stephen--is dead." + +"Who is Stephen?" Roger asked shortly. + +"Oh, Roger!" she appealed to him, breaking into sobs. "My poor Stephen! +I shall never see him again. All my sacrifices--in vain!" + +"Who is Stephen?" Roger repeated. + +She held up her arms, without answering his questions. "Roger--comfort +me!" she wept. + +And for all his life, no matter how many years he may live, Roger Sands +will be glad that he did not hold back from Beverley then. Without +another word he clasped her tightly, while she cried against his cheek. +Both had forgotten that there were guests, that this was the "big night" +which all the newspapers were talking about; that already dinner was +late, and people wondering; that the "ball" was to begin at ten-thirty, +and that the Russian dancers who were to open it, as the great +"surprise," would soon be in the house. + +When Beverley had sobbed until exhaustion came, she spoke, in a tiny +voice, like that of a tired little girl: "Because Stephen is--safe, I +can tell you everything now. Will you listen, Roger, until the end, +whether you can forgive me or no?" + +"Yes," Roger answered. "But just this before you begin! I love you so +much, Beverley, that if there's something to forgive it's forgiven +already." + +"Stephen was my brother," she said, "the one person who belonged to me +after father died. Mother I don't remember. She came of a high Russian +family who were sent to Siberia as political prisoners. She was only +sixteen, and father saved her by making her his wife. I was named 'Olga' +after her. But for that dreadful journey from Albuquerque I had to have +some name that wouldn't give me away when my ticket was bought. Stephen +and I were called Bevan, because father used that name for his business +in Russia, but his own name was Beverley. For travelling that day I was +'Miss B. White.' Once I'd told you I was Beverley, I had always to be +Beverley for you. + +"Stephen--or Stephan, his Russian name--and I, were born in Russia, +where father superintended an immense tract of oil wells for Mr. Heron. +When my father was killed in an explosion (I was fourteen and Stephen +twelve) Mr. Heron felt it his duty to look after our future. He had just +married at that time. You must know Mrs. Heron well enough to understand +that she wouldn't like to have two half-grown-up children thrust upon +her. Why, she used to be jealous even of her husband's first wife, an +Irish girl, who died years and years ago, in Ireland! It seems Mr. Heron +hadn't told her about his old love story. She came across a picture of +him taken with the girl, and some letters from people Mr. Heron had +employed to search for his wife, whom he had quarrelled with and left. I +was staying at their house when Dolores discovered the photograph and +letters. She rushed into the room where I was with Mr. Heron. He had to +seize her hands to keep her from tearing the picture in pieces; and he +held them while he told her his sad story. He'd been visiting Ireland, +it seemed, years before, and met a girl, very poor but very lovely, and +married her when they'd known each other a few weeks. It seemed the girl +had been engaged to someone else; and that someone took a cruel revenge +on Heron. By a plot which he confessed afterward when it was too late, +he made it appear that the girl had been his mistress. The evidence was +so strong Heron could hardly help believing, so he came back to America +and tried to forget. Years after the other man, dying of typhoid, +confessed to a priest that he had lied, and forged letters. The priest +wrote to Heron. But the poor, deserted girl was dead, and all that Heron +could learn when he dashed back to Ireland to find her was that a baby +girl had been born a few months after he left his wife. He tried for +years to trace the child, but could not. And it was only after he'd +given up all hope that he married Dolores Moreno. I think Mr. Heron felt +tender over us children because of his lost little one. After leaving us +in Russia at school for a while, and a year in England, to learn the +language better than we knew it, another year in France and another in +Italy (in families whom he paid to educate and take care of us) he must +have had a longing to see what we were like. He and Dolores, his wife, +came abroad, and brought us back to America with them, much against +Dolores' will, I know. I was nearly eighteen, and I realized the first +minute we met that Dolores was going to hate me. We went straight to a +house near Albuquerque, which belongs to Mrs. Heron. Her brother Louis +always lived there. He was an invalid, you know; about a year younger +than Dolores; something wrong with his heart, and almost a +hunchback--but oh, what a handsome face! When he took a violent fancy to +me her one thought was to get me out of his way. Louis had money of his +own. He was rich, and I suppose Dolores was afraid I might try to marry +him, as I hadn't a penny. It was bad enough for her that Mr. Heron +should have a tenderness for me, because of his lost child; but that +Louis should love me was more than she could stand. I was sent to a +boarding-school, and when I was twenty I began to teach. Dolores didn't +like Stephen, either. She grudged every penny her husband spent for us. + +"Mr. Heron used his influence, and got Stephen work in Los Angeles as a +reporter on a newspaper, when he was only eighteen. He was tall and +handsome, and could pass for two years older at least. I was very +unhappy at this time, for I'd begun to worry about Stephen. I was sure +he was keeping some secret from me. But I found out nothing till the +crash came. Oh, Roger, it was horrible. He'd fallen under the influence +of those anarchists--those dynamiters, who had been terrorizing all +America for years. They'd persuaded him that they were noble reformers. +Poor Stephen was a useful tool. He never did any of the dynamiting with +his own hands, but he used to make bombs, and carry them from place to +place, and take letters it wasn't thought safe to send through the post. +It was the blowing-up of the _Times_ buildings in Los Angeles and all +those innocent men being killed that sickened him, he confessed +afterward, when at last he opened his heart to me. But he was too deep +in to free himself. It's now two years ago that the break happened, and +all our life collapsed--Stephen's and mine. + +"Some of the old lot he'd worked with were left--men who had managed to +keep clear and never be suspected when William Burns, the detective, was +fighting the Macnamaras and their gang. Only one or two who'd been under +suspicion wriggled out from Burns' clutches. A man named Carl Schmelzer +was the cleverest. He went abroad, and was supposed to die in Germany. +But he didn't die. By that time they were engaged in new enterprises, as +the old ones were too risky; but they always pretended to be working for +Labour against Capital. John Heron was their target two years ago. The +war cry was that he was the master, a tyrant, a plutocrat, ruthlessly +crushing the weak. The Comrades knew our history--Stephen's and +mine--and they tried to inflame Stephen against Mr. Heron because he'd +failed to do for us what our father's services and death merited. But +they made a big mistake when they ordered my brother to dynamite a +railway bridge, just as a train with Heron's private car was due to pass +over it. He refused, and threatened to warn Heron unless they abandoned +all their schemes against him. That gave the gang a fearful fright. They +thought their one chance of safety was to suppress Stephen. A friend of +his who lived at Home Colony warned him that there was a plot to kill +him. He came straight to me and told me the whole story. Neither of us +had much hope. We thought the Comrades were sure to get him in the end. +Then a wonderful thing happened. The train Stephen took, after his visit +to me, was wrecked. Everybody in the car with Stephen was killed except +himself. An idea came to Stephen. He put a silver cigarette-case with +his name on it into the pocket of a man burnt past recognition--a man of +about his own size. Then he crept away and hid for many days. When he +hoped it might be fairly safe, he wrote to me, knowing I mourned for him +as dead. He asked if I'd risk going with him to Russia to begin a new +life there under another name. Of course I said 'Yes.' + +"I left the school, and some jewellery I had kept us going for a while +till there was a ship we could take for Japan, and so get back to +Russia. We'd have to sail from San Francisco, so presently we went to +Oakland, travelling at night by local trains. We hoped in that way we +should not be seen by any one we knew. + +"Whether someone did see us or not, I can't tell. Anyhow, from the day +Stephen left me to buy our cabins on the ship I've never seen him again. +He was kidnapped by the gang; and then began my martyrdom. They gave me +a week of suspense. Then I got a letter. It told me that Stephen had +been caught and would be punished by death for his treachery unless I'd +agree to buy his life. I was warned that if I went to the police, it +would be known to them, and Stephen instantly killed. If I consented to +bargain I must put a 'personal' in a San Francisco paper, saying +'Steve's sister says yes'; in that case an appointment would be made +with a man who would tell me what to do to save Stephen. + +"Of course, I obeyed. Next day the same paper told 'Steve's Sister' +where to go for instructions, and at what time. I think the man who met +me must have been Schmelzer himself, just back from Europe. He had the +authoritative manner Stephen had spoken of, and a great deal of gesture. +He didn't give himself any name then, but afterward I knew him as +Cheffinsky. To save my brother I had only to get a bundle of papers +which were in the possession of John Heron. They were at Albuquerque in +Mrs. Heron's house. Heron kept them there because he believed no one +would suspect; but a spy the 'Comrades' had hired to act as a gardener +there overheard a conversation, and knew the hiding-place. Unfortunately +he couldn't put his hand on the papers without killing a man to get at +them. For me, it would be simple, because Louis Moreno was in love with +me. Louis had charge of the papers, and would let me see them if I +treated him the right way. How Cheffinsky found out about Louis and me I +never heard; perhaps from Stephen. I was given a day to think the matter +over. Then there was to be another meeting in the same place. When I +went to the rendezvous for the second time--it was in a park--I hadn't +made up my mind. But, oh, Roger, the wretch showed me a snapshot of +Stephen in a room, with a rope round his neck, standing on tiptoe. The +rope was fastened to a ring in the ceiling, where a chandelier had been. +If Stephen had dropped from fatigue he would have choked to death. 'Six +hours a day of this medicine,' Cheffinsky said, 'till you've handed us +the papers we want.' + +"I promised to go to Albuquerque and get them. What the papers were I +wasn't told. Afterward I heard more about them--from Louis himself. The +day of the second meeting in the park I was given directions what to do, +but they were changed in a hurry. The Comrades got warning to 'clear +out' and go East as quick as they could. A telegram reached me only a +few hours before I was to start for Albuquerque. It said, 'Delay +journey. Writing,' and a letter came the same night to the quiet little +boarding-house where I stayed. My brother had been taken East, where I +should meet him when I handed over the papers. I was told what train to +take to Albuquerque, and what train to leave in: the Santa Fe Limited. I +was to find reservations on board for 'Miss B. White.' At Chicago I was +to get out of the train and find a man waiting for me. You know all +about that, and what happened. There was money in the letter of +instructions, enough to see me through to Chicago, otherwise I couldn't +have started. What I had was almost all gone. Oh, I can hardly bear to +think of that day, and what I went through--before I met _you_." + +"Don't think of it--don't go on if you'd rather not," Roger begged. + +But Beverley wished to go on. + +"There was one thing the Comrades hadn't calculated upon," she said, +"and that was that the Herons would be at Albuquerque. When the plan was +made the Herons were at Los Angeles, and expecting to stay there. You +must have been with them--just after the great case was decided in John +Heron's favour--thanks to you! But Louis had been seized with one of his +heart attacks--he had angina pectoris--and had wired for his sister. +Dolores didn't wish to travel without her husband, so both decided to +go. As for Justin O'Reilly, it was at Albuquerque I first saw him. It +came out that he was taking a short holiday in California, and I heard +talk about his visiting some place where he and his father had lived. I +had the impression of his being a California man. Mr. Heron had helped +O'Reilly to get into Congress. They weren't intimate, though I believe +they're distantly related, but Mr. Heron wanted to see him before he +went East, and wired for O'Reilly to meet them at Albuquerque. When I +arrived, expecting to find only Louis in the house, they were all there. + +"It was a shock and a blow to me to see the Herons. I'd meant to lie, +and tell Louis I'd come to him because I'd changed my mind, and liked +him better than I thought. But to account for my sudden appearance, +uninvited, to Dolores, who hated me, was another matter. + +"She and her husband supposed I was living quietly at school, mourning +for my dead brother. I had to make up a story quickly. I said that I'd +lost my position, and hoped they would put me up at Albuquerque until I +could get another. They couldn't turn me out that night. And Louis was +fairly well again by that time. He was very glad to see me. I made the +most of his welcome--for Stephen's sake. You see, I _had_ to succeed! I +wrote a note, and slipped it into Louis' hand. In it I hinted that I had +something very particular to say to him. He must go to his own rooms as +soon as he could--he had a whole suite to himself which he could shut +off from the rest of the house. It was on the ground floor. I said I +would go to him there. + +"Now comes the most terrible part of my story. Roger, you may hate me +when you've heard the rest! I went to Louis' room. He let me in. I told +him that I had changed my mind. I would marry him if he wanted me to, +but only on one condition. I said I'd heard from friends of Stephen's +that Mr. Heron was keeping documents which concerned our dead father; +that they were with other private papers, in the Albuquerque house, and +in Louis' charge. If he would give the whole bundle to me to look over, +and choose what I wished to take away, I'd be his wife whenever he +wanted me. + +"He tried to seize me in his arms, but I threatened to go away at once +unless he kept quiet, and did as I told him. There was a packet of +papers, he admitted, but he vowed to me that they were only business +papers. They were compromising to John Heron, and would do him immense +harm--worse than ever, now that he'd just come successfully through the +courts--if they passed into enemy hands. I insisted that there must be +something about my father. There could be no mistake, and unless Louis +would let me look, I'd never marry him. He still objected, arguing that +all the things were in one envelope, sealed with three seals, which must +not be broken, or his sister and her husband would never forgive him. + +"He went to his desk--we were in his sitting-room--and showed me a +secret drawer between two other drawers. He took out an envelope--you've +seen it. 'I'll try to cut off the seals with a sharp knife,' he said, +'and I can stick them on again. While he spoke, he began looking for the +knife he wanted, and I snatched at the envelope. But his fingers closed +down on it. He laughed in my face. 'So that's your game!' he said. 'I'm +not so soft as you thought!' But I struggled with him. I was strong; he +was an invalid. He'd just been ill. When he realized that I was more +than his match, his face looked like a devil's. I shall never forget it. +'You'll pay for this!' he screamed at the top of his voice--an awful +scream--'Help! murder!' + +"Overhead was what they called the living room. I knew he would be +heard; people would come. I wrenched the envelope from him, and ran for +the window. I dared not go to the door; I should meet someone and be +caught. Louis grabbed my dress, shouting 'murder!' Then I seemed to go +mad. I gave him a push, and he fell over a chair, and lay quite still. I +rushed to the door, locked it, and took the key, to make a few minutes' +delay. Then I jumped out of the window (I told you Louis' rooms were on +the ground floor) and ran very fast. I won't stop now to tell you the +adventures I had before I managed to dash into the Albuquerque railway +station, at the last minute, after the train was in. Once in the train +when I didn't see Louis, or Mr. Heron's secretary, or any one I expected +to follow me, I began to hope that some other trail had been followed. +It would have seemed more likely that I'd go back west, where I had +friends, than travel east where I was a stranger. You promised to stand +by me. Then you met Justin O'Reilly. I didn't dream Louis was dead. It +was a week later, when you and I were married, that I saw in a newspaper +about the beautiful Mrs. John Heron losing her brother suddenly, from +heart disease. A date was mentioned: the night I took the envelope. Oh, +Roger, I felt that I was guilty of his death. Even to save Stephen I +could not have killed him. Do you think me a murderess? If you do, just +let me go from your arms, and I shall understand. You needn't tell me in +words." + +Roger held her closer. "No, my darling," he said, "you're not a +murderess. You didn't kill Louis Moreno. He couldn't have lived many +weeks. The doctor had warned John Heron. I love you more than ever for +what you've gone through. It's you who should hate me for my cruelty +and--and my beastly suspicion. But there were some things that tried me +rather hard. Why didn't you tell me this story long ago? Surely you +could have trusted me to keep your secret?" + +"Yes, I could have trusted you, even though it was Stephen's secret more +than mine. But I had taken a double oath not to tell! First, I'd +promised Stephen himself when he came back from the dead, never to give +any hint of the truth. Later, when he was kidnapped, I was obliged to +swear another oath, on the memory of our dead parents, and my love for +my brother, that I wouldn't betray Cheffinsky and his comrades. Now it's +different. They have betrayed me. Stephen is dead. Such a girl as Clo +Riley wouldn't have sent this message unless she knew for certain. He +must have died just before that dreadful Sunday when all our +unhappiness--yours and mine--began, Roger. To keep their hold over me, +those men would have done all they could to save him till they had the +papers they wanted to use, and ruin John Heron. Soon after you brought +me to New York they found out about our marriage, and put 'personals' in +the newspapers headed like those others in California: 'Steve's Sister.' +They knew, of course, that their man, who should have met me in Chicago, +had been prevented from coming--imprisoned on a charge which they called +a 'frame-up' but I believe he must have picked someone's pocket and been +arrested in the railway station. They still had power over me, although +I was your wife, but I had power over them, too, because I'd got the +papers they wanted. I answered the messages, and refused to give up what +I had unless my brother fetched it. I hoped that would bring him. But he +only wrote--a short letter. He said that he was safe for the time being, +and was treated kindly. He would come when he could. Meanwhile, I 'must +keep the papers and the secret'--and wait. I felt relieved after that! I +dared to let myself be happy. Then, that Sunday, when Clo and I went out +in the motor, a man was waiting for me in the street. He made me +understand that he came from Stephen. His name was Peterson. He said the +Comrades had changed their minds. They wouldn't let Stephen come to me. +I must send the papers that night or my brother would die. When I asked +the reason for the change, Peterson pretended not to know. Now, I +understand at last. Stephen was dead already. Cheffinsky and the others +had at last lost their hold over me and dared not wait longer. I sent +the envelope to Peterson by Clo, to the Westmorland Hotel. Yes, the man +who was murdered! That has been another horror for me. It was when I was +taking the envelope to Clo, in the car, that I broke the rope of pearls, +and dared not even stop to pick them up! I hoped that Stephen was +saved--thanks to Clo--but, Roger, it was not the same envelope you took +care of for me in the train. It had been changed. Inside, when Peterson +opened it before Clo, he found only blank paper--writing paper of the +Santa Fe Limited train. Clo puzzled the mystery out, and explained what +might have happened when you and I left the train in Chicago--what must +have happened. A clever trick of Justin O'Reilly's, working for the +Herons." + +"Justin O'Reilly! Damn him!" Roger broke out; but Beverley covered his +lips with her hand. + +"No. He wasn't to blame. He must have thought me a monster of +ingratitude and treachery to the Herons. The moment they saw the secret +drawer open they would all have guessed that I'd stolen the sealed +envelope. It was the only thing kept there. If John Heron told O'Reilly +what the contents were, he must have supposed I meant to make money by +blackmailing. The reason the Herons were silent and left me alone, was +that O'Reilly had managed to have you robbed of the envelope, at +Chicago, where it was changed for another--another just like it, given +him by Dolores, with her seal and gold wax. So they were safe. O'Reilly +kept the right envelope, and it was safer with him than at Albuquerque. +But they could never be sure whether you were in the affair with me or +not. So, I have lost you the Herons' friendship." + +"As if I cared!" + +"And Justin O'Reilly has doubted you, and detested me. But he has been +splendid to Clo, who went to his hotel and stole the real envelope out +of his private safe and brought it here----" + +"So that was it!" said Roger. "And in your boudoir I found the envelope +addressed to him at his bank, and sent it back to the Dietz that night." + +"Roger! It was you?" + +"Yes. You are not the only one with a confession to make. There are many +things I----" + +"I don't want a confession from you!" she broke in. "Whatever you did +was right. Even before you told me, I felt you knew about the pearls +being gone----" + +"Though I knew, I ought to have trusted you. I ought to have trusted you +when I heard you telephone O'Reilly----" + +"So you did hear! I was sure of it. I telephoned about Clo. He was +helping her, and so, indirectly, helping me, though I'd seen him only +when he brought her here that Sunday night, after she'd been to his +hotel. Oh, Roger, you don't know what that child has done for me! Not +only did she get back the envelope, and now the pearls--which Peterson +stole--but she has gone through an ordeal terrible enough to kill most +women, or drive them mad--that delicate girl! She may be in danger +still--for she dropped the pearls in a bag out of a window in a shabby +boarding-house where she has been watching a thief. Miss Blackburne has +just told me. My one comfort is that a man, answering Justin O'Reilly's +description, got out of a motor car in front of the house, as Miss +Blackburne came away. Clo tricked O'Reilly, and stole from him, and +yet--I think she bewitched him. I think he'd risk his life to keep her +from harm. I pray that he may bring her here, safe and sound." + +"He's not likely to come to my house," Roger said. "I've just caused him +the greatest disappointment of his life. I wanted to hurt him--and I +found a way. By this time he must know what I've done. There's an old +mansion in Gramercy Square built by O'Reilly's great-great-grandfather. +Years ago there was a forced sale; and ever since Justin O'Reilly was a +boy he has wanted to buy the house back. I have bought it. But I wish to +heaven he would fall in love with this Clo of yours and marry her. I'd +give them the deed of sale as a wedding present!" + +Roger had sprung up, released by Beverley, and almost shouted the words +of his inspiration. He had forgotten everything and everybody in the +world except his wife, the girl who had helped her, and his own late +enemy, whom he would now gladly welcome as his dearest friend. A knock +brought him back to realities with a start; yet he felt half dazed as he +opened the door, to face Leontine. + +"The butler begged of me to come," said the Frenchwoman. "Is it the wish +of Monsieur and Madame that dinner be still longer delayed?" + +Roger turned and looked at Beverley, his hand on the door. "What shall +we say?" he asked. "Shall I go down without you? Shall I explain that +you've a headache----" + +"No," Beverley answered. She stood up, tall and very beautiful, though +deadly pale. "I have no headache. I am quite well. Leontine, tell +Johnson dinner may be served." + + + + +XXXIX + +ON THE ROAD TO NEWPORT + + +Through the blue dusk of the June night a big gray limousine car bowled +smoothly over the velvet road surface, with the moon overhead, and the +sea making distant music. Turning a corner with a swing the limousine +came upon another car, stationary and in trouble. A man in evening dress +was holding an electric lamp for the chauffeur to peer under the bonnet, +and standing beside him was a woman in black, wearing a filmy purple +cloak. + +"Want any help?" O'Reilly called from the window, while his chauffeur +slowed down. + +"No, thank you! We'll soon be all right," answered the man with the +lamp. The light shone on his face, which was strange to O'Reilly, and on +that of the woman, which, to his surprise, was familiar. "You can go +on," he said to his chauffeur, in a low voice. + +"Why, Mr. O'Reilly, it was Mrs. Heron!" Clo cried, sinking back +reluctantly upon her comfortably rigged-up bed, after a long stare +through the window. + +"'Mr. O'Reilly,' indeed? Don't you realize I'm your husband?" Justin +laughed at her. + +"I'd forgotten," said Clo. "It's only since this morning, and we've had +so many things to think of." + +"I've thought of nothing but you. You seem to have thought of nothing +but your Angel--and these Herons." + +"It's the Herons I'm thinking of now," Clo confessed. "Why did you tell +the man to go on?" + +"Why, I like old John Heron, but I'm not a spoil-sport." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I'm wondering if Mrs. Heron and that chap are on their way to the +Sands' ball. If Heron doesn't mind letting them enjoy each other's +company, why should I butt in?" + +"Mr. Heron was in the car," Clo insisted gravely. "It was dark inside, +but I saw his face at the window." + +"You must have sharp eyes," said Justin. "The window looked black as a +pocket to me." + +"You think I imagined it. But I'm sure! Oh, Mr.--er--Justin, do let's go +back and warn him! I have a presentiment that if we don't, it will be +too late." + +"Whatever you feel as if you must do shall be done," said Justin, with a +tenderness in his voice of which few people would have believed him +capable. "The doctor humoured you, and told me to, so here goes!" He +called through the speaking-tube, and directed the chauffeur to turn. +"Go back till you get within a few yards of that auto we passed hung up +on the road," he added. And to Clo: + +"Astonishing the interest you take in the Herons!" he teased. + +"Not in them. In him. I don't think I like Mrs. Heron," she explained. + +"You've worried about him ever since you came to yourself yesterday. But +then, I'm used to John Heron's life being threatened. It used to happen +about once a week. And he is alive to this day." + +"I feel awfully responsible," said Clo. "You see, I heard Kit and Churn +talking of the plot, and saying that Chuff was sure to have found +someone else, after Pete died." + +"I tried to get Heron three times on long distance yesterday," said +O'Reilly, "and when he was always out, I wired." + +"You couldn't explain clearly in the telegram." + +"If you really saw him in the car, he's all right, up to date. There it +is, still stranded. We shall soon know." + +"Will you get out and talk to him seriously?" Clo urged. + +"Yes. If it's he and not his ghost you saw. I'll get him to walk along +the road with me, out of earshot from his wife." + +The gray limousine slowed, and carefully stopped. The chauffeur had been +told that, for his life, he must not let the car jolt or jerk. + +Justin kissed his bride of a few hours good-bye for a few minutes, and +jumped out. + +While Clo kissed her hand, almost timidly, because Justin had kissed it, +Justin himself walked on to the other car. + +"You!" exclaimed Dolores Heron. "So it was you in the limousine that +hailed us? Funny I didn't recognize your voice, but the chauffeur's +tinkering made such a noise----" + +O'Reilly was about to ask for Heron when Dolores introduced him to Mr. +Hammersley-Fisher. "He's our host at Narragansett, and is taking us over +to Roger Sands,'" she said. "Jack's in the car, very bored. I believe +he's gone to sleep." + +"No, he hasn't," Heron's voice answered rather testily, for he secretly +disliked Dolores' habit of calling him "Jack." "He's only waiting for a +chance to speak!" + +O'Reilly went to the window of the car, and shook hands with his +friends. + +"It's not possible that you're going to the Sands'?" Heron said. + +"I should have made the same remark about you a few days ago," retorted +O'Reilly. "But--circumstances have altered cases with us both." + +"My wife is the circumstance that has altered my case," Heron replied, +in the tone of a man with a grievance. + +"So is mine!" returned Justin, in a purposely subdued tone. + +"Your--what?" + +"My wife. But let's take a walk. Your friend's auto won't be ready to +move for some time, I should judge." + +The elder man, who had been feeling ill and tired, sprang out of the car +with a sudden increase of liveliness. Dolores and Hammersley-Fisher +stood with their backs to the two men. Heron's wife turned for a glance, +but let them walk away without a question. She was flirting with her +host. + +Dolores was saying to Hammersley-Fisher: "I dislike Mrs. Roger Sands +intensely. I wouldn't dream of going to her house if her husband hadn't +at one time done quite a service--legally, I mean--to mine. I don't +often talk like this about people I'm going to visit. But if I could +tell you the things that woman has done you wouldn't blame me." + +To O'Reilly Heron was repeating, as they walked along: + +"Your wife, did you say?" + +"I did say. But before I go on I've a question or so to ask. You got my +wire, advising you to be careful, and hinting that some of the old lot +had bobbed up along your life line?" + +"Yes. We were out all the afternoon. I found the wire this evening when +we got back to Hammersley-Fisher's place to dress for this show at Roger +Sands'. Now will you tell me----" + +"I'll tell you this, that my opinion of Mrs. Roger Sands has changed. +You shall hear why presently. I rather think it will give you pleasure +to change yours--when you can conscientiously. As for Sands himself, +I've learned that we have both done him an injustice in regard to those +papers." + +"How have you learned all this?" + +"From the same person who wished me to put you on your guard--made me +call you up at Narragansett, and wire when I couldn't reach you by +'phone!" + +"Who is this person?" + +"My wife. And if you want to know who she is----" + +"I most certainly do." + +"I could introduce you to her in about two minutes if I weren't afraid +of her giving you another shock." + +"Another--shock?" + +"As she did on the Sunday night at our hotel when you had your--little +attack. Heron, I've married that girl; the most wonderful girl in the +world." + +Heron stopped short. + +"That girl!--you--have--_married_ that girl?" + +"Yes," said Justin, "I married her this morning. So, if you'd been +inclined to forbid the banns, you're too late." + +For an instant Heron did not speak. But when words came, he seemed to +fling them at his friend: "You're not joking when you say that, +O'Reilly. You have a meaning. What's in your mind?" + +"Perhaps--the same thing that's in yours, Heron." + +"Speak out plainly." + +"I'm not prepared to do that without encouragement. You and I are both +of Irish blood, Heron, so you know as well as I do that imagination gets +out of hand now and then with us Celtic folk. We generally flatter +ourselves it's second sight, whereas it may be--just nothing at all." + +"I give you leave to speak." + +"Long ago, when I first knew you, while my father was still alive, and +before you married Miss Moreno, you once came to stop with us. You were +run down and ill. My father thought we could do you good. One day you +spoke rather frankly about a certain incident in your past. Never since +have we mentioned that conversation, and I never expected to do so +again. Yesterday I heard the story of another incident which matched it +about as perfectly as two bits of a broken coin can join together. This +second incident concerned two Irish girls. The first died years ago. The +second--is my wife." + +"And the first was mine." + +"I was wondering. You see, that collapse of yours on Sunday night wasn't +like you, in the normal course of things. It had to be accounted for, +and so----" + +"The girl told you!" + +"She told me that she'd met outside my door a tall man with red hair and +beard, and extraordinary eyes that pierced her through and through. She +told me that, after she'd walked on to a stone ledge from my window to +yours, and climbed in there----" + +"Great Heavens!" + +"I mentioned that she was the most wonderful girl in the world. You'll +hear the story some day. She didn't know who you were, then. When she +learned your name, although she wasn't conscious of having heard it in +the past, it affected her strangely. She seemed to associate it with +wakeful nights in her early childhood, and the sound of a woman's sobs +in the dark." + +"Don't, Justin. I can't stand any more--now. The sight of her face that +Sunday at the Dietz--the ghostliness of her, in my locked room--I +thought I was haunted." + +"Would you like to see her again, and judge for yourself whether----" + +"Take me to her," Heron broke in. + +They started on again toward the gray limousine drawn up at the roadside +only a few yards away; but before they had gone a dozen steps Heron +stopped O'Reilly once more. + +"Does she know?" he asked abruptly. + +"I have said nothing to her," Justin assured him. "She cannot know. Yet +I think, what one would call her 'subconscious self' is aware of a tie +between you and herself. She's Celtic, too! She hasn't been able to rest +since she learned (in a way you shall hear about later) that your life +was threatened. I'm certain that something above Fate has brought us +three together on the road to-night. I didn't see you in the car. She +saw you. She made me turn back." + +Without another word Heron began to walk very fast. Justin kept at his +side, but did not speak until they had nearly reached the car which +contained Clo. Then he warned Heron hastily that the girl had had an +accident. "That is," he corrected himself, dryly, "she was shot by the +leader of the band that's after you. If you want to tell her here and +now what you think you are to each other, I don't forbid it. Happy news +seldom hurts. (By the by, she explained to me that she came over to +America because she thought the States looked small on the map, and she +might meet her American father!) Go gently with her, that's all I ask." + +"You give me leave to talk to her--as I wish?" + +"Yes. But--what about Mrs. Heron? Is she----" + +"Oh, later, I must tell her. To-night I want it to rest between +ourselves. But, O'Reilly, I can't go on with my wife and that fellow, +Hammersley-Fisher, to the Sands'--after this! What am I to do? Think +for me. I can think only--of one thing." + +"When I've introduced you to my wife" (each time O'Reilly spoke those +two words it was with tenderness and pride) "I'll go back to +Hammersley-Fisher's car and suggest that he take Mrs. Heron on, while we +follow later, if you like." + +"For heaven's sake, do." + +They had reached the gray limousine. Justin opened the door. "Clo, here +is my old friend, John Heron, come to see you," he announced. + +"Clo! Her name's not 'Clodagh,' is it?" the question leapt from Heron's +lips. + +"It was one of my mother's names, Mr. Heron." + +"And your voice is her voice!" he exclaimed. "Your face is her face." He +had not meant to begin in this way; but the moment was too big for him +when Clo switched on an electric lamp, and the light framed her in +silver. Justin silently moved away, leaving the two to make acquaintance +as Fate led. + +Next morning the newspapers all over the country were head-lined with a +new sensation. Mrs. John Heron, of California, had arrived rather late, +on account of an accident to the car of Mr. Hammersley-Fisher, who had +been entertaining the Herons at Narragansett. Mr. Heron, owing to +indisposition, had remained behind, and only the lady's host had +accompanied her to the ball. At the moment of their entrance a dance, +given by several famous Russian professionals, was nearly ended. An +extra dancer had accompanied the party as an understudy of one of its +members who feared a breakdown. Not being called upon to dance, he had +taken up his station near the door, and must have known Mrs. John Heron +by sight, though not her husband. When she came in, accompanied by +Hammersley-Fisher, he shot the latter through the breast, calling out in +English: "Take that, John Heron, for your sins against the Comrades!" + +Unfortunately the Russian--or pretended Russian--was allowed to escape +in the confusion, but the police had hopes of getting upon his track. +Mr. Hammersley-Fisher was seriously, but not fatally, injured. All the +guests of Mr. and Mrs. Sands, with the exception of four, had left, that +the house might be kept quiet for the invalid. + +The four who remained were Mr. and Mrs. John Heron, Justin O'Reilly, and +Justin O'Reilly's wife. + +THE END + + + + +_Books by the Same Authors_ + + +CAR OF DESTINY, THE + +CHAPERON, THE + +EVERYMAN'S LAND + +GOLDEN SILENCE, THE + +GUESTS OF HERCULES, THE + +HEATHER MOON, THE + +IT HAPPENED IN EGYPT + +LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER + +LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR, THE + +LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR DISCOVERS AMERICA, THE + +LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA + +MOTOR MAID, THE + +MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR + +PORT OF ADVENTURE, THE + +PRINCESS PASSES, THE + +PRINCESS VIRGINIA + +ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER + +SECRET HISTORY + +SET IN SILVER + +SOLDIER OF THE LEGION, A + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LION'S MOUSE*** + + +******* This file should be named 21998.txt or 21998.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/9/21998 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://www.gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + |